Alias
by homesickdelko
Summary: AU Crossover. CSI Eric Delko is forced into witness protection and becomes newbie SSA Luke Alvez. But what happens when a case brings the BAU to Miami with Calleigh head on the case? And what does this mean for their relationship and their future? Adam Rodriguez, the guy that plays Eric, recently joined CM, and I thought this would be a cool connection. Rated M for sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This fic has been in the works for the past few months since Adam Rodriguez joined Criminal Minds. I thought it'd be a really cool perspective to take since CBS has a tendency to recycle actors and I'll forever view Adam Rodriguez as Eric in any sort of show. This fic is more CSI Miami oriented rather than Criminal Minds, but the sequel(it will occur) will be more CM oriented. I love yall and I'm so grateful for all your support! Hope you like this!**

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Calleigh knew something was going to happen, knew it was something bad. She could tell by his demeanor, by the way he was acting around her, around the team, around everyone, and it worried her. He was more... sensitive, than usual. Not as playful and happy as the Eric they'd grown to love. After the death of his sister, it was like that happy, playful Eric had died with her. And of course a part of him had- that was expected, and getting shot sure as hell didn't help ease the pain. But it brought he and Calleigh closer, and as their relationship progressed quickly(and expectantly) from friends to lover, Eric started to become more and more himself again. He started to smile and laugh more, and Calleigh was just grateful to have _him,_ the real him back.

But he was acting different now, again, and it worried her. Not different like he'd been when he lost his sister, but different almost as if... his days were numbered, as if he knew he wouldn't be around much longer. And If she didn't know him any better she'd be worried that he'd be planning a suicide attempt; he was acting _that_ cryptic, with her, with Ryan, with everyone. Acting like time was of the essence and he was rapidly running out of it, trying to savor everything he had now. Like he'd taken everything and everyone around him for granted and was trying to make up for it, trying to make amends while pretending nothing was wrong. But he'd never been good at hiding his feelings, and Calleigh couldn't help but feel like he was purposely being transparent with her, wordlessly easing her for whatever was about to come.

She noticed him holding her far more tightly than usual when asleep, she noticed that he was watching her when he thought she was sleeping, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, gestures that were intimate and normal between the two, but the vibe was different, much different, and not at all in a good way. One morning, right after she slapped the alarm button to snooze, she rolled in his arms to face him, and mumbled, "whats wrong?"

He shook his head, offering a broken smile that made her heart ache. He refused to meet her eyes and instead mumbled softly that he loved her, and brushed his lips over hers. She was worried, beyond worried to be honest, she loved Eric with every piece of herself, always has, and the way he was talking, the way he was acting at work, at home, something was going to happen, and Calleigh wasn't the most religious person around but she just didn't understand how some higher power could let this happen to them again, whatever was about to unfold.

It broke her and scared her to death,

After he almost got deported, after her smoke inhalation, after Puerto Rico, they'd both sworn to no more secrets, both swore they'd keep nothing from one another. But Calleigh knew, despite all of that(or perhaps because of all of that), knew that if he was keeping something from her it was for her own protection. That rule was unspoken, but undoubtedly existed, and was there because of his love for her, because of his need for her- she knew it'd break him if something happened to her because of his past. But she felt like she was losing her best friend, and she needed answers, needed to know.

It was no secret at this point that they were together, in every aspect of the word, and ever since this ominous cloud started following him she had this growing(and knowing) feeling that something was going to happen, that they would be apart, that he was going to leave for some reason that he had no control over, so she refused to care about what her coworkers thought.

She'd reached out to Horatio at work, hoping, praying that she was wrong, that she was reading too far into Eric's mood. But the way Horatio looked at her, the gentle way he brushed her shoulder, wordlessly confirmed her fears that soon Eric wouldn't be here, and it broke her heart. And she wanted to know why, wanted to know why the hell this was happening to her, to them, _again._ They'd already gone through so much, all she wanted was to just settle down with him, to just be together, to maybe start a family, to keep him from leaving again. And the way Horatio wiped away a lone tear that fell down her cheek confirmed that he couldn't talk about it, but that Eric had no other choice.

Eric knew she knew, knew the moment she ran into him in the locker room. The look of sheer pain that she wore nearly broke him, it was almost enough to make him find a way around this, to make him find a way to make it work. But he'd thought of all the possible things he could do to stay with her, to at least keep in contact with her, he'd ran everything over and over in his head. He couldn't bring her with him, when the FBI first talked to him about this, about him needing to leave, to rebuild himself, his first thought was Calleigh. He'd asked, practically begged for anyway to just bring her with him, but they said no, for her sake. Danger was following him, not in the way it had when he almost got deported, not in the way it had when he had to save his father. This danger was danger she couldn't protect him from.

That night, the last night, she took him home, she laced her hand with his and pulled him through the door. She stepped out of her heels and he toed out of his Chucks while she was tugging him towards her bedroom, _their_ bedroom, really. He hadn't spent a night without her in a little over a year, now that he thinks about it. It never really occurred to him how little time they've spent apart up until now, and the knowing look she gave him was enough to break him. So many emotions ran through him, through his veins and to his heart and he hated it, he hated feeling this way.

Anger, because he has to leave the one thing he loves most, Calleigh. It'd taken so long for them to get here, years and years of build up until that one night when she was in the hospital and he'd almost lost her. He felt like he couldn't win, honestly. It's like once he finally gets what's precious to him, it's taken away from him. He'd already lost so much, enough to make anyone want to just jump off a building and call it a day. He lost Speedle and his sister. He almost lost his own life, though now he it feels like he pretty much has, everything he loves is being taken away. His job, his family, his city. Calleigh.

Sadness, enough to make his heart ache and break, because this very well might be the last time he has her(though he liked to pretend that wasn't true), the last time he kisses her, holds her, hears her voice, her moans, feel her coming around him. Losing her meant losing himself, and he didn't know how much more pain he could take.

She'd taken the reigns this time and he let her, he was going to let her do everything and anything she wanted. Let her do whatever she needed to fill the brokenness she felt inside her chest while she was left to make sense of something she knew nothing about. Everything was in slow motion; the intimacy wasn't new for them, but the extent of it and the sadness that was laced within set them in soothing rhythm. He let her be on top for a while, let her kiss out her fear and pain in an attempt to fill the anticipated loneliness. Her hands careened over his chest, his abs scratching at his shoulders and sucking at his neck.

He gripped her hips tightly and ground she against him, and when she moaned his name he suddenly stopped, twisted, and rolled them. He had this empty feeling in his chest, aching inside him in a way that only she would be able to fill. And he hated the fact that he felt it now, because she was here with him, they were together now, her hands scratching against his scalp while he slowly descended down her torso. Somewhere between the front door to the bedroom and to the bed their clothing had been shed, ripped off and thrown on the floor; they needed that barrier gone, needed to be skin on skin with eachother, needed to feel their warmth.

And Eric made sure to savor this, to savor her, being here with her, to suck and nip and taste at every piece of skin he could find, hearing her voice say his name over and over. His fingers teased her chest, his tongue between her legs until it became too much for her and she forced him back up, rolling once again so she was on top, so she was in control of what little she had left. And Eric didn't mind, not when her cheeks were flushed and her hair cascaded around her, not when she ground her slick heat against his hardness, sure as hell not when she gripped him and guided him to her entrance and slowly sunk onto him. His one hand made it's way to her hair, and he was grateful she didn't choose to move right then, was grateful to just feel her around him while his lips brushed over hers over and over. She laced his free hand with hers when she started moving, her other hand scratching lightly at his scalp while the rend and sew of their hips filled the empty feeling he knew was going to come.

They kept things slow, tried to make each other last, tried to make it go on forever, tried to make it seem like time didn't exist because all she wanted was to keep him here with her, and she didn't understand why the world found that to be too much to ask. But then she felt his fingers between her thighs while she continued to move over him, and all the questions she had she couldn't remember, not when his fingers circled over her the way he knew would make her forget, not when his other hand gripped her hip tightly and kept her moving, kept her riding. She wanted it to go on forever, to be with him forever, but she knew that wasn't going to happen, knew they wouldn't be able to hold out, and when she came around him, her orgasm ebbing through her, their hands were laced, their foreheads touching and noses brushing, and when he came all he could see was her, was them, what they could have been. And he knew that's all she could see too.

She rolled off of him, snuggling tightly against him, her head nestled against his chest while he brushed his lips over her forehead and stroked his fingers down his spine. They were quiet for a while, nothing in the air but the sound of their breathing and the bitter loneliness that was about to come. It settled around them, and Calleigh tried to push it away, tried to focus on the fact that he was here now, but she couldn't.

"Please don't leave," she whispered, and if it wasn't for the tears he felt against his chest, he wouldn't have been sure she'd spoken at all. There was so much he needed to tell her, so much he simply _couldn't_ tell her, so he held her tightly, nuzzling her hair and savoring the smell, and whispered an apology, "I'm sorry, Calleigh."

She knew that was the most he could say, and it pained her, this entire situation pained her, because it wasn't fair, not at all. How long had they been dancing around the idea of them being with one another? How long had they avoided it? So many years were wasted, and she wanted to cry, to scream, to run until her lungs were on fire and she couldn't breathe, but didn't want to put that burden on Eric, not when he was right here with her. So instead, she held him as close as she could and tried to stay awake with him, but the smooth waltz of his fingers over her spine began to lull her to sleep.

 _Calleigh-_

 _I'm sorry. I can't tell you what's going on right now, and I wish I could, so you'd understand. I don't want you to think I'm choosing this, because I'm not. I've thought of every possible way to get around this, to find some way to keep us together, but I cant, for your sake._

 _I love you, I've always loved you. I'll always love you. Whatever happens, you're the only one for me. I'll be back, okay? This isn't goodbye, it's just... to be continued. You're the only one I've ever loved Calleigh, the only person I've ever wanted, ever needed. You've always been there with me from day one, you've always had my back, and I'm beyond grateful for that. Without you in my life, and with everything that's gone on, I would have stopped fighting a long time ago, but you gave me reason to keep going. You gave me reason to get up every morning, to get dressed, to get to work even after being shot. You gave me reason to fight then, to stay alive, because I couldn't imagine a world without you._

 _I love you and trust you with every part of me, with ever fiber of my being. You mean everything to me Calleigh, and because of this, I WILL be back._

 _The purple box on top of this note, I've had it for about 6 months now, sitting in my sock drawer while I tried to work up the nerve to ask you. I didn't want to scare you off, didn't want it to hurt us and push us apart, so I waited, and maybe I waited a little too long._

 _You don't need to take it as a proposal if you don't want to, but take it as a promise, a promise that I'll be back, a promise that we're not over, that this isn't the end._

 _I love you Cal, you're my everything, and no one will take that away. See you soon._

 _-Eric_


	2. Chapter 2

When he heard the order that they were heading to Miami to help PD hunt down a serial killer that was killing random men and women left and right, he knew he was caught between a rock and a hard place. The BAU had no idea about his past, had no idea that his name is Eric, not Luke, has no idea about The Russians or his birth certificate and prior issues with citizenship. All of his current co workers were kept out of the loop, and these orders had been given by the head of the FBI. When The Russians came back, he had no choice but to flee Miami, leave CSI for the safety of him, his family, and his coworkers. But he hated the idea of witness protection, the FBI changed everything about him, changed his past, his roots and where he comes from, for his and everyone else's safety.

He'd gone into witness protection in Atlanta for 20 months lecturing on the criminal justice system at Georgia State University before moving to BAU. And now here he is, Luke Alvez.

Born in the Bronx, not in Cuba. Formally a part of the US Army, not a tow truck company in The Glades. Later joined the FBI's Fugitive Task Force, not Miami Dade CSI. Eric was an entirely different person, still trying to get used to his coworkers calling him Luke, still trying to outprofile them so they couldn't figure out the truth, still trying to just get used to everything and everyone around him, though he knew realistically he'd never get used to it

But now they had a case in Miami, and he had to pretend he's not from there, pretend he knows nothing about Miami, pretend he's never once met anyone apart of MDPD, pretend he knew nothing about being a CSI. Horatio was the only one that knew about Eric's situation, about him having to go into witness protection because of The Russians. Calleigh knew he had to leave but knew she wasn't allowed to know anything else about the situation.

Now, on the plane, reading over the files, he had to pretend to _not_ notice that all of the victims were named after hurricanes, all of them killed in the same order the hurricanes hit. He had to try and not stare at the photos of the crime scenes and evidence that Calleigh had signed, dated, and verified. But that was all he could think about, she was all he could think about. Holding her again, smelling her, kissing her, talking to her, explaining everything, waking up to her in the morning spooned together, picking up where they left off and pretending these last two years just never happened. If only life could be that easy.

"You find something, Alvez?" Morgan asked, glancing at him from the other side of the plane. He continued to stare down at the file, making it seem like he was in deep thought over the case, not over Calleigh.

"The victims," he said keeping his voice steady, "A while back I'd read an article about socioeconomic impact caused by hurricanes in South Florida," he lied, "these victims, they're all named after hurricanes."

Okay, maybe being from Miami did have an advantage if it meant it'd make him look like he was doing his job.

"Andrew Cunningham, Erin Taylor, Philip Opal, Charly Anderson, Ivan Rodriguez, Jeanne Sparks, Dennis Booker, Katrina Summers, Wilma Johnson," he shook his head at the file, figuring he'd already said too much, knowing he couldn't tell them that they were killed in order of those hurricanes, couldn't tell them that each of those hurricanes were either a category 3 or higher, couldn't tell them about the long days he'd spend waiting for gas right before a hurricane was about to hit, couldn't tell them about raiding the supermarket for water and alcohol and food, couldn't tell them about those couple of nights he'd spent over at Calleigh's. He hated having to lie, having to forget. He missed Miami, he missed Calleigh. Hell, he even missed the hurricanes.

He hoped that at some time during Spencer Reid's life he'd read about the order these hurricanes had come in, because there's no way Eric - _Luke-_ could let any other knowledge related to anything remotely close to the same category of Miami slip, those orders were straight from the head of FBI.

And surely enough, Reid piggybacked off him, first with a question, "was that the order they were killed?" and at Eric's nod Spencer went on to recite.

"Hurricane Andrew hit Florida in 1992, Hurricane Erin in '95, Opal in '95 as well, Charley, Ivan and Jeanne in '04, and Dennis, Katrina, and Wilma in '05. And if I remember correctly I believe all of those hurricanes were a Category 3 or higher."

Eric thanked whatever God or faulty condom that made Spencer Reid, because now everyone was interested in his input regarding the hurricanes, and Eric could be left to figure out how to react and what to say when he see's Cal. He vaguely heard over the loudspeaker that they'd be landing within 15 minutes as he watched out the window, and he could name each neighborhood they flew over, could point out where the lab was, could tell you exactly where Calleigh lived. This was his home, his city, the place he left everything behind, everyone that he loved, they were all here, right below them. This was where he was CSI Delko, this was where his family was, where Calleigh was, the lab and Horatio and everything he loved, it was all right here.

But then JJ sat next to him, had noticed him staring out the window, and he suddenly felt a completely new level of homesickness.

"Beautiful, isn't it Alvez? I've always wanted to come to Miami. You ever been?"  
"No," he spoke too quickly, "always wanted to visit," he said, attempting to cover any slip up he may have let through. In reality he knew if anything, it was the overthinking of his actions that would get him busted.

"You okay, Luke?" He felt her gaze on him now, instead of outside. He kept his eyes dutifully on the scenery, taking note that they were landing at the Opa-Locka Executive Airport, and also taking note that he should make sure Reid doesn't walk around this area alone.

"Yea," he responded evenly, "just always wanted to come here, can't believe I finally did"

As the tires smoothly hit the runway of the airport, he instantly recognized the silver hummer that was parked by the terminal, felt relief when he laid eyes on Horatio, and smiled to himself over H's sunglasses. Eric was always one to miss the little things.

But beside H he saw Calleigh, and his belly twisted with nervousness. He'd been so anxious to see her, stuck in this idea that they'd just pick up where they left off, pick up like nothing had changed, that he hadn't really thought that she may have moved on, that Jake may have come back, that maybe she found someone else. He couldn't blame her, honestly, if she'd moved on, he couldn't hold that over her. Two years is a long time to go without intimacy, and despite his feelings allowing him to hold off, to wait for her, it was biologically inevitable for her to seek out someone else, in some form or another. But he'd been so caught up in his excitement, caught up in seeing her again, in holding her again, that he hadn't thought of the inevitable- Calleigh moving on.

She'd been so fucked over by men in her life he hoped that had she moved on this guy wouldn't go shooting himself in her lab or disappearing undercover for days at a time or getting forced into witness protection because of a part of his family he didn't really know existed. It's fair to say that Calleigh has had her fair share of shitty, complicated men. So Eric couldn't hold any of that against her. It wouldn't be fair.

His thoughts stopped when he felt Derek standing beside him, "you know them?" he asked, following Erics line of sight.

He shook his head, "no," he denied, "just observing what we're working with."

It was silent for a moment, until he heard Rossi instruct them to exit the plane, Eric was only half listening though. His eyes were on Calleigh, never leaving her until his line of site was blocked while he exited the plane. It'd been so long, too long. And it took everything he had to not go running to her and wrapping his arms around her again, finally. He was only a few yards away from her, completely tuned out from whatever Rossi was talking about. She looked just as breathtaking as she always has, her hair blowing lightly in the wind, her frame still small yet firm while she wore a simple blouse and business slacks and heels.

He was waiting for her to notice him, wondering if she'd already had, but if she did she didn't show it, not really. And if Horatio didn't tell her beforehand that he was here she was about to find out now, the moment he heard Horatio begin to speak.

"Agent Rossi," he said, reaching out his hand to shake Daves.

"Lieutenant Cane, it's good to see you again," he turned to look at Calleigh, and she offered the warm smile she always had, the one that really made Eric fall in love with her, the one he missed waking up to every morning, "I'm Calleigh," she said, shaking his hand as he reached out to her. Her eyes moved tentatively to Eric, who wasn't doing the best job at acting natural, though how was he _not_ supposed to be distracted? _Not_ supposed to think about them and what they have together? He'd been so lost in her, in everything, in what they'd left behind, that he hadn't realized it was his turn to introduce and shake hands.

Instinctively he reached his hand to hers, "Alvez. Luke Alvez," and his eyes stayed on hers, until he felt a cool metal band brush his hand, and he glanced down hoping, praying it was the one he'd left her, the one he'd left as a promise, because Eric was not one to break promises, especially to people he loved and would give his life for. The fact that she'd worn it all this time, that she not only waited for him, presumably, but openingly wore a piece of jewelry that would easily signify that she was at the very least engaged, made his heart flip.

Neither had realized they'd held their hands together a little longer than that of people from different worlds and walks of life meeting for the first time. And she knew it, he knew it, and while he may have dropped his hand tentatively, his eyes never left her, not once. And honestly it'd been too long, he didn't care about what his current co workers thought, didn't care about them profiling him and her and the situation. As far as he was concerned, Calleigh was the only one here with him right now.

He vaguely heard Horatio saying that they needed 2 agents at the lab while the other 3 took care of hotel arrangements and started getting settled, but he did hear _clearly_ when Horatio requested that "Alvez and Dr Ried come to the lab with him," and Eric had absolutely zero issue with that. Most supervisors, they'd try keep him and her separate for now, figuring it'd only hinder both his and her effectiveness if they were together after so long. But realistically, it'd probably be far worse if they both had to keep playing along with the whole "Luke Alvez" role without having a second to say _something_ to one another.

And since landing his eyes never left her, seeing her smile, hearing her voice, it made his heart race. He was tuned out of everything around him except her, he'd lost complete sense of his surroundings, all that mattered was that she was here. He vaguely remembered stepping the few feet into the Hummer, Calleigh in the passenger seat and Horatio driving, while he and Spencer sat in the back, and Eric couldn't help but smile to himself as he remembered that one time, a few months before their relationship was official, when they'd pulled over because the easy rain that lulled the morning turned into a torrential downpour that made it virtually impossible to drive. He didn't remember what it was exactly that caused the shift, nor could he remember exactly who started it- though in retrospect it was probably the both of them- but he did _clearly_ remembered climbing into the backseat with her. That'd been a day he'd relive over and over again if he could.

He caught Calleigh's knowing smile in the mirror, and the way they glanced at each other now, as if things hadn't really changed, as if these past 2 years just hadn't existed, made his insides go a little gooey, and he honestly couldn't wait to get this briefing at the lab over with so he could grab Calleigh and run and hide in the supply closet or her ballistics lab or the locker room or even in the sketchy stairs in the parking garage for all he cared, itd been so long, and Eric was over waiting.

He was so distracted over her, over starting back up where they left off, that he hadn't realized they'd arrived at the lab until he felt Spencer open the door. The nostalgia he felt when he stepped outside and saw the front of the lab brought on this new level of homesickness. There was no way in hell he was going to go anywhere without her now- either the BAU was gonna need to hire Calleigh or he was just gonna need to quit and move to Canada with her. Either way, he really didn't care, he wasn't going to leave her, not again.

He didn't care about the case right now, about his coworkers, hell didn't really even care about Horatio, he just needed her, here, _now_. While he pretended to listen to Horatio guide them into the lab, pretended to care about what else was going on, he started plotting a way to get Calleigh alone. And she could see right through him, knew exactly what he was thinking, and he vaguely caught her smirk before Spencer turned towards him while they walked down the halls, "Alvez how did you say you knew about the hurricanes again?"

Eric caught both Horatio and Calleigh watching him, waiting for him to formulate an answer, and Calleigh glance to Dr Reid, curious as to how well he was doing at his so called profiling job. If he'd picked up on any of the tension in the air he chose not to comment on it.

"Read an article about natural disasters not too long ago," he explained blandly, turning with no hesitation around the corner of the hall, figuring they were meeting in one of the conference rooms. It was a little late though, he realized when he glanced out a window to find the sky had gone dark and the sun began to set. He vaguely remembered something about the rest of the team heading to the hotel, so if he and Spencer were gonna be in the lab it wouldn't be for long. Eric wasn't sure how long he could last without jumping her right then and there.

They stopped in front of a conference room, one he'd been to so many times before, for so many different reasons... one he'd had so many different... _fantasies,_ in. He needed to stop thinking like this, and fast, because if he pondered too much on her and him like _that_ he'd need to take himself(and her) to the locker room, and it wouldn't be for the first time.

Looking through the glass walls of the conference room, Eric saw each file for each case neatly placed along the table.

"The cases are in order of the death of each victim," Horatio explained, "I need to catch up with some other CSI's about some other cases. Calleigh is head investigator on this case, she'll be here to answer any of your questions," he glanced to Eric and gave him a slight nod while Spencer eagerly entered the conference room, "we've concluded that the unsub has probably had some sort of traumatic event with hurricanes, each of the victims what were killed had a name in common with a hurricane, each killed in order that the hurricanes hit," he turned to Eric, "what else do you remember from the article you read?"

Eric sat down across from Spencer, Calleigh taking a seat beside him, carefully putting a good bit of distance between them, it was hard though, for her to not lean towards him, especially when here he was smelling just as delicious as she remember, she wanted to reach out to him, feel his skin against her fingertips, wanted to lace her hand with his, wanted to pull him into a much needed hug, wanted to rest her head on his chest, feel his strong arms around her, wanted to hear his heartbeat, wanted to kiss his neck, his jaw, wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair, pull his lips to hers and kiss away all the painful loneliness she'd held onto these past 2 years, wanted to tug at his shirt and rip it over his head, wanted to explore the hard contours of his chest, wanted to feel his warmth all around her, wanted his hands to explore and caress her skin and move to her chest to twist and tease while he kissed his way down her belly, wanted to tug at his belt and feel his hardness against her, feel him inside her, fill the empty spa-

"Calleigh?" It was Spencer's voice. She hasn't realize she'd been staring down at this same file for the past 10 minutes, hell she didn't even remember grabbing the file. Whose smart idea was it to bring Eric back for such an important case when she had spent the last 2 years sleeping in an empty bed without him? How the hell did they expect her to to concentrate and put all of her focus on the case when Eric was hardly a foot away? How was she supposed to not jump his bones right here and now? She knew she wouldn't be able to focus on the case until she had them alone, until she could feel his lips on hers again, feel his strong arms circle her. She needed a minute to compose herself, to put herself together before she explodes and forces him on the table.

"You know," she said looking up from her file, glancing at Spencer for just a second before grabbing her phone from her hip, "I'm going to see if one of our techs ID'd the white powder we found at the last 2 scenes, see if that helps us figure out why it wasn't at the first few scenes."

"That would make since if something happened to the unsub that brought up some other trauma," he glanced to the three case files in front of him, "and the past 2 victim's injuries show a greater increase in the unsubs rage. The others had been strangled with the blue tarp they were found wrapped in, but they weren't tortured, and he'd chosen victims that didn't have much to look forward to. But the recent victims were strangled with his hands and then wrapped in a tarp."

Calleigh nodded, "if Travers hasn't gotten to the sample yet I'll be sure to make him move it to the top," she bumped Eric's knee twice, a code of some sort, and invitation for him to follow her. He knocked her knee back so she knew he understood. She stood wordlessly and Dr Reid seemed to be too enlaced in the case files in front of him for him to notice. When she left Eric got a gust of her intoxicating scent, and he knew the next few minutes of waiting until enough time passed for him to leave without it seeming suspicious would be utter hell.

His heart raced with anticipation, he'd been so overwhelmed by her just being here, by just seeing her, he hadn't come up with what he was going to say to her, what he could say to her, he had so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to explain, so many questions and his mouth went dry. He tried not to think about it, trusted that they'd be able to talk freely like they had before, when he was able to sneak in past her hard walls she'd built around her, boundaries to keep herself safe, that she let down for him. But then he left, and he could only imagine how much thicker they must be now. Anxiety coursed through his veins when he glanced at his watch. 2:19, roughly 8 minutes since she'd gone to trace, and that was good enough for him.

"You know," he began, flipping through the pages as if he'd come up with a legitimate question, "I'm gonna go print out the general information about each of the hurricanes, see if there's a minor connection we're missing."

"Alright, you want me to come with you?"

"No," his voice was steady, something he was beyond grateful for, "you stay with case files, it'll only take a couple minutes."


	3. Chapter 3

He made his way to the bathroom like it was nothing, following the path to the locker room that he'd taken so so many times over the years, and he tried to let himself pretend that nothing had changed, that he was back home and a CSI and just Eric Delko again. When he opened the door he saw her, she was facing a locker, _his_ locker, and he couldn't help but smile at the one conversation they'd had right there that changed everything, the one that pointed out the line they could cross, the line they'd already toed against for years.

" _I know we keep saying this isn't going to happen anymore..."  
_ " _Yea. And it keeps happening. That a bad thing?"_

" _I don't think we should talk about it in here."  
_ " _Okay, you're place or mine?"_

Leaving the locker room together, they crossed the line, broke it eagerly and shut the door from the other side. He told her he loved her that night, and when she murmured it in return, she murmured it against his chest so freely with no hesitation, not in her voice, especially not in her body. She snuggled closer to him, and he knew without a doubt that there would be nobody else, he didn't know you could keep falling for someone with each day, but he did, with her, it was obvious in every aspect of their relationship, from the tender touches to the strong arms that held her close to waking up to her snuggled against him, that he would fall for her more and more as each day passed.

Right now though, she wore a smile, her hands playing with the lock on his corner locker, aimlessly spinning it and as he approached her he noticed that the name on the locker still read Eric Delko, and it made him smile, made his heart melt. It'd been two years, but there was still the expectation that he'd return. But right now, the locker was the last thing on his mind. Right now all he cared about was Calleigh, the feel of his chest flush against her back, the sweet taste of her skin, the smell of her hair, her warmth against his. It'd been far too long. His hands found her hips, squeezing lightly, and he didn't have to look at her to know she was smiling. He nudged her hair over to rest on her other shoulder and laid soft, long needed kisses on her neck, her throat, her jaw. The sigh she let out made his knees weak, and he couldn't help but hold her tighter, too afraid to let go, refusing to leave her once more. The emptiness that'd surrounded him these last 2 years was finally filled, and he knew now that there was no way in hell he'd be going back to Quantico without her.

"I think this is a violation of some sort of policy, Special Agent Alvez," her voice vibrated through her body and against his, his hands leaving her hips only to snake around her torso, holding her tightly. Her tone was seductively playful, and he found the fact that they could fall back into teasing one another so easily spoke volumes about their relationship and the trust they had for one another. For just a second he thought maybe they really could pick up where they left off, but he knew that wasn't true, nor relevant right now. They'd figure out that part later, right now all that mattered was the fact that he had her in his arms, and nothing could take that away at this moment.

"Mhm, no, I don't think so," he replied, trailing kisses from her shoulder to the curve of her neck, to her jaw before latching onto her ear, "and that's Special Agent Delko, to you."

"Yea?" she asked. Her response was empty, but she couldn't think, not with the way he kissed her, the way he sucked at her skin just the way she liked it. Definitely not when she felt his hands ghost up her belly and sides, making her shiver, and she let out a quiet sigh when he eagerly cupped her breasts, moving his palms and fingers over her just the way she like it, just the way she showed him that one time...

"Eric," she murmured, covering his hands with hers, adjusting then spinning to face him, crushing her lips hard with his, grasping at his hair(and the fact that he'd grown both the hair on his head and his facial hair only made her hotter). He let his own hand grasp the back of her head, his hands gripping her hair and pulling her closer

"I love your hair," she murmured against his lips, her hands pulling a little too hard at the strands while she kissed him, her tongue finding it's way past his lips, feeling and tasting him. She found it incredibly sexy when his whiskers brushed against her skin, and when he ground his hips against hers, his erection hard against her hip, she knew that this could only go one way, and she also knew there was no way they'd have the time, not here, not now. But then he nibbled at her bottom lip until she opened for him, his tongue sliding besides hers, exploring her mouth like she had his, god he'd missed her. His hands were back on her breasts, snaking beneath her blouse to cup lace and her head fell back against the metal locker with a gasp, "Eric," she sighed, and he took the opportunity to press a kiss against her neck, sucking lightly at her racing pulse, though not enough to leave a mark- a skill they'd both mastered over time. She ground her hips back against his this time, feeling a rush of heat; she missed him so much, missed them.

Her hand laced with his free one, bringing it to rest over his heart and the feel of a cool ring against his hand made him kiss her harder, made him grind against her until she was gasping his name and when he nudged his knee between her thighs she decided she'd do whatever it took to make sure he'd stay in Miami. She couldn't leave this, leave him, them, not again.

Feeling the ring made his heart melt, the fact that she'd spent two years without him yet waited for as long as she did with no real sense of when he might be back meant more than she could ever know. Eric had always been insecure about Calleigh's feelings for him, had always questioned and, on his darkest days, knew he loved her more. And it was nothing that she did, nothing that she said that would ever make anyone think she didn't love him as much as he loved her, it was just this endless thought that he simply didn't deserve someone as beautiful and caring as Calleigh, and he'd felt this way for god knows how long. He'd never tell her that though, he'd always made sure that part stayed hidden, he thought it was for the best. But now she wore a ring, a two year promise that it was him and only him. He couldn't help but hold her tighter, pusher her harder against his locker until her lips found the curve of his neck, his warm sigh made her hot and restless, and she had precisely no idea how they were gonna stop this before someone walks in or Spencer goes on a mission searching for them, but right now she chose to push that thought to the back of her mind and instead push her hands under his black shirt, over his abs and chest, seeking his skin, feeling his muscles flutter, her nails raking over him and she wasn't really in control of her body currently, had no control over her hands reaching for his belt, especially not when he grabbed her hips and hoisted her against the locker, her legs wrapping around his waist, her hands leaving her belt to frame his face and bring her lips back to his, sucking on the bottom lip she'd loved so much.

When the door of the locker room opened, they suddenly remembered where they were and he settled her on her feet, grateful that his locker was out of site of the door because they definitely needed a few seconds to compose themselves, to at least get their clothing back to looking like it hadn't been fisted and pulled at.

It hadn't really occurred to Eric about the rest of the team, if they were completely kept out of the loop regarding his absence. All he'd been able to focus on was Calleigh and seeing her again, Ryan and Natalia and Walter hadn't crossed his mind, he hadn't thought about what information they might have, what they were told. Hell, he didn't even know what Calleigh was told, she just knew he couldn't stay. He had so many questions, so many things to say, and when he felt her tugging at his hand to follow her into the bathroom, he regretfully stopped her, pulled her back to him and circled his arms around her, his head resting on the top of hers. He closed his eyes, wishing he could stay like this forever, with her. But he knew he couldn't. Warm hands trailed down her back, her spine, to rest once again at her hips, nudging her head so their foreheads were touching, "tonight," he whispered, tracing his hands up her forearms and over her own that lay on his heart. He smiled at her, "not a quicky in the locker room, not this time," he brushed his lips over hers, then brought her left hand up, pressing a soft kiss on the gold band she wore, "I promise."

She smiled, nodded, and pulled him into one last hug, "I love you."  
"I love you too," he let his fingers trace through her hair until he coaxed her to look at him, "but for now, CSI Duquesne," he murmured with a smile.

"We need to focus on the case, Special Agent Alvez," she replied playfully.

He brushed his lips over her hairline, "I'll to Spencer the printer is out of ink-"  
"And I'll head to trace."

It took all that Eric had to leave her like this, again, after not having her for so long. But he needed to play his cards right, needed to keep everything underground and under the wraps, because if not this very well might be the last time he'll ever have her.


	4. Chapter 4

"Everything okay, Alvez?" Spencer asked once Eric finally returned, empty handed Spencer noticed, to the conference room. Eric was disheveled and, in all honesty, probably looked like he'd been getting it on with someone despite his attempt to straighten his clothes and splash cold water on his face. And if it wasn't the rumpled effects of sex that gave him away, the lovesick grin and relief that relaxed his muscles definitely did. But Spencer simply tilted his head at him, deciding that right now probably wasn't the best time to try and figure out whatever was going on.

"Yea," Eric began, sitting back down in front of a case file, "printer was out of ink."

"Were you able to email the files to yourself so we could still look at them?" Ah yes, Spencer was always one step ahead.

"You know I uh," he shook his head and glanced back down at the case file, "didn't catch my mind to, I'm a little tired."

Spencer nodded, "I am too. Rossi just instructed us to come and read over the case files again, I don't think the rest of the team was planning on heading over tonight."

Eric nodded, "yea, my brains fried, honestly." Well... At least that part wasn't a lie.

He turned at the sound of the door opening to find Calleigh standing there, obviously looking more put together than he did, which was good, at least one of them remained unsuspicious. Granted, he was pretty sure that if Spencer were to presume Eric had left for a quicky, Calleigh would be the last person on his mind. She was too _professional._ Usually. But Eric was an exception, he'd always been an exception.

She didn't bother to sit down, making it obvious that she wasn't planning on staying, "Travers said that the results wouldn't be back until sometime tomorrow."

Eric met her eyes for a moment before glancing back to Spencer, "yea, Dr Reid and I were talking about picking this back up tomorrow when we're not as tired."

"And I don't think they were really expecting us to stay that long, since they went right to check into the hotel."

Calleigh nodded, "do you need a ride?"

Spencer shook his head softly, "no I just texted Morgan, he should be here in 10."

Calleigh smiled, "get some sleep, always flying has to be tiring," she moved beside Eric to gather the files, "I'll see yall tomorrow," she smirked at Eric, Spencer too busy to notice while playing on his phone. But Eric got the message, loud and clear no doubt. And he's come up with a million and one lies he could use to excuse himself from whatever setting they were in. Granted they were flimsy, but they should work at one point or another. A walk, going for a walk alone was always a good excuse, a good way to wind down from a tiring day and recharge for the next. Drinks wouldn't work because Derek and Spencer would want to follow, and he was supposed to have never been to Miami before, so his best bet it seemed was going for a walk. It wasn't too late, the sun was just starting to set, it was beautiful out, it offered a form of nostalgia that made him homesick, almost enough for him to say fuck it and run off from the FBI and take Calleigh to Puerto Rico and never look back.

Eric took note that he couldn't be gone too long without the others noticing, couldn't spend the night no matter how deeply he wanted to. He hated that, hated that Calleigh was right here with him yet, in all honesty, so far away. Two years of hiding, of leaving, of pretending to forget was almost too much for him, but he did it, mainly for Calleigh's sake, for her safety. He hated how hard everything was, and he was tired of waiting, tired of pretending, he wasn't going to waste any more time.

"You know Spenc, I think I'm gonna go for a walk outside, it's beautiful out tonight," Eric said, glancing out the window to make his excuse half convincing.

Reid looked up, "you sure? I think we were planning on getting food too."  
Eric smiled, "yea, I just want to enjoy the weather, we don't get this in Quantico, and we definitely didn't get this in The Bronx."

He looked half convinced but still suspicious, "alright, do you remember how to get out?"

Eric nodded, "if not I'll figure it out."

Spencer nodded, "okay, see you later then."  
Eric nodded once more, turned and made his way out the door and to the elevator. Standing there waiting for it, it almost felt normal, felt like it was before everything that happened, felt like he was back home. That was something he needed. When the doors opened though, with Derek standing there getting off to take them back to the hotel, it was just another reminder that things weren't the way they used to be. And granted, Eric loved the people at the BAU, they were a great team to work with, but Eric loved CSI more.

"Where you headed Alvez?" Derek asked, stepping out of the elevator while Eric stepped in.

"It's just such a beautiful night, I wanted to go for a walk, it helps me wind down."

Derek shrugged, "fair enough, see you back at the hotel?"

Eric nodded, "will do," and then he was gone.

Morgan was far too exhausted to question him, and whatever was going on he figured it wasn't priority. If Eric had and old flame in Miami or a friend he wanted to keep to himself, then so be it. Derek knew first hand the need for a little bit of privacy.

"Hey," Derek greeted, standing at the door while watching Spencer put some of the files in his bag, "don't you think maybe you should try and sleep tonight?" he asked, watching him stuff them in his backpack.

"I was gonna try and print out different articles about each of the hurricanes so we could go through them tomorrow."  
"Can't you just do that here?" he asked, patting Spencer on the back and walking with him to the elevator.

"Alvez tried but said they were out of ink."  
Derek nodded, now definitely suspicious, "you think he's acting strange?"  
"Yea, he's got something or someone here in Miami that he really doesn't want us to know about, but I also don't think it's relevant."  
"Yea," he only half agreed, "who's the head CSI on this?"

"Calleigh Duquesne," Spencer replied, stepping into the elevator, "she seems nice, offered to give us a ride to the hotel, very even tempered. She's married too but, I don't know, she doesn't seem like the marrying type."

Derek smirked and the elevator door opened, "what you profiling the CSI's now?"

"Hey, hey" he said with his hands up, "it's just a habit now, and it's important to know what type of person we're working with."

Derek laughed, "well we're heading to a bar for some drinks, you can tell us all about it then."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Rated M for sexual content, proceed with caution**

It'd been awhile since Eric had been on the metro bus, but he didn't want to take a cab and, despite him usually driving while living in Miami, he tried to cherish the little things like taking the bus. Dumb things, but things that made him feel a little more at home. He'd still kept his MDT Easy bus pass, another thing he'd kept hidden, but a tiny piece of plastic he could carry and call home, always with him in his wallet.

Sitting in the back of the bus on route 22, he watched a street he'd driven on so many times before pass by him, the oranges and yellows setting right at the horizon behind the apartment complexes and cozy homes that defined Miami's culture. Palm trees and manatee shaped mailboxes, the warm air blowing into the bus through the cracked window, god he missed it here, missed being able walk outside and hear both Spanish and English and sometimes Creole, depending on the part of town. He missed the diversity, missed the people, missed the colors, the ocean, he just missed being home.

Anxiously, he pulled the stop requested string when Calleigh's apartment came into view, his heart racing despite having been with her less than a few hours before. The last time he was here was when he left- was _forced_ to leave, and it made him ache. But he was here now, he reminded himself, and she was here too. But that little nagging voice in the back of his head that kept telling him he wouldn't be here in a few more days just wouldn't leave, wouldn't let him enjoy the time he had now.

When he thanked the bus driver he just smiled at him, "go get her," he said sweetly, in a way that made him feel the tiniest better. He thanked him again, embraced the warm air of his city, and walked down her street. He was anxious and agitated and impatient as he waited for the elevator in her apartment building. He couldn't tell you the last time he felt nervous around Calleigh, honestly. The night he left, he felt more regret and pain than nerves. He'd always felt so welcomed and comforted by her, their relationship had always been like that, both in bed and at work. As he entered the elevator he gave it some thought, trying to retrace this feeling down a hell of a long road.

The files, he decided, when he asked her if she'd read his. That was the last time he felt these kinds of nerves. He was anxious and scared when she was in the hospital, but that was different. That was anxiety laced with fear over her life. Now it was just... he didn't know. He was just nervous. Exiting the elevator and standing in front of her door, his finger tentatively brushing the surface of the doorbell without pushing it, he became overwhelmed with the same regret that almost drowned him the night he left- was _forced_ to leave. He tried to let it go, tried to not focus on it, tried to pretend that everything was the way it used to be. He needed her now, needed her forever, and in knowing that he also knew that there was a possibility that that wouldn't happen, that this could be the real last time they see each other, despite his promise to himself and assurance to her that nothing was going to keep them apart now. He wasn't sure what part specifically of the entire situation he regretted, whether it be simply not _really_ telling her the truth, or digging too deep into his past and letting his emotions get in the way or not fleeing like he'd daydreamed about. A part of him regretted all of these, because they played a piece in keeping them apart, and that's something he'll forever regret. But she was here _now_ with him, and he tried to remind himself of that, tried to remind himself that he _really_ wasn't going to leave without her this time. He was tired of feeling regret, of feeling alone, of feeling like a part of him was missing. As his fingers brushed the bell once more and pushed, he tried to let himself forget everything that had happened, and it'd been hard to do, but with being back at her place with her he hoped it'd be much easier.

Barely a second had passed when she answered the door, and she didn't open it all the way, kept herself hidden behind it while opening just enough space for him to slide in. The rush of air that hit him, the sweet smell of her apartment, he needed to catch his balance, it was overwhelming. He glanced at her when she closed and locked the door and Eric's jaw dropped at the site of her. He'd always been a lingerie man, no question to that, and when she found that out she made sure to use that to her advantage, she'd had a drawer full of seduction, things she'd bought spur of the moment over the years, thinks she used when she wanted to seduce or feel sexy or more often than not, both. Things she also used when she wanted to get her way, but Eric never minded, that's for sure.

What she was wearing now was easily as intimate as erotic. A white button down shirt, _his_ white button down shirt, fell just above her knees as it virtually swallowed her. The buttons buttoned only from the bottom of the shirt to just above her belly button, the top part eagerly pushed aside to reveal black _sexy_ lace, and the way she blushed while under his stare made him fall in love with her even more, if that were possible. Even with the shirt half buttoned, he could still see the shadows of identical black lace and... a garter belt. That was Eric's biggest weakness, he had zero control over anything when she wore that for him. And she knew that, evident by the seductive smirk she wore. She could literally get him to do anything when she wore that, she could convince him to go and shoot the president and he'd do it. God he missed this, her, all of this. As she swayed her hips and walked over to him, his jeans became painfully uncomfortable.

"Special Agent Alvez," she murmured, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, "I've been waiting for you."

His throat was dry when he swallowed, "I can see that," he replied, his own fingers reaching to cup her cheek, "I like your shirt."

She smiled sweetly at him, her fingers continuing to play with the fabric, "mhhm," she hummed, her eyes meeting his, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt while she began to pull it up, "I don't like yours," she murmured playfully, nudging it up until she was on her tippy toes, barely tall enough to lift the shirt over his head. Her arms wrapped around his neck while he tossed his shirt to the side, his hands finding their way to her hair, their foreheads touching, noses brushing.

"God I missed you," he sighed, letting his lips fall on hers. She deepened the kiss within a matter of seconds, pulling him as close to her as she could, her hands tangling in his hair again, pulling his bare chest to hers. She was so lost in him, in this, she missed it, missed them. His tongue teased it's way inside her mouth, and she'd been so lost in him, in the kiss, in them together again, that she hadn't realized they'd been moving until she felt her back hit the wall as she let out a soft sigh. His chest was warm, his body hard against her, and she was aching for him, to feel and taste and touch every part of him. She felt her hands find their way to his belt, but before she could unbuckle it one of his hands left her hair to stop her, instead lacing their hands together and pressing it to the wall beside her head. She felt oddly empty when his hand left the back of her skull, but that quickly changed when she felt him palm her breast, teasing her nipple through the fabric of her bra. She gasped his name and let her head fall back, and she found it a little embarrassing that it took something so little to unravel her, but she missed him, had been waiting far too long for this day, so it was only logical that he could unravel her as quickly as he was now. It usually took a little longer, once they'd started sleeping together regularly they'd gotten used to one another and knew how to make it last, but now, now it was like starting over again, like being able to take a breath of fresh air after being starved of oxygen. That's what she felt, starved of him after spending two years in the Eric-Delko-Famine.

His fingers teased lightly while he nudged his knee between her thighs and let her grind against him. His lips found the curve of her neck, exploring the silky skin of her throat, sucking at her pulse point, making his way to her ear and nipping lightly at the lobe. His fingers on her breast began to pick up pace, and she grinded her core against him in the same rhythm. Her nails raked down his shoulders and chest, leaving bright red marks while she gasped his name over and over and over again. He felt so good, despite their skin hardly touching, she still felt excited and electrified and overwhelmingly aroused.

When he pushed his knee harder against her she gasped, unlacing their hands that lay locked beside her head, and pulling his lips back to hers. He was unshocked and she wasn't embarrassed by the absolute _need_ she felt to kiss him, her tongue eagerly exploring past his lips, and she finally felt at home again. She grunted, angled her head deeper while she tried to let her fingers reach his belt once again. He didn't notice, at least she thought he didn't, he was so caught up in the kiss, caught up with his hand on her breast, with the other one in her hair, World War 3 could occur and he wouldn't notice, _couldn't_ notice, not while he was wrapped up in her like that. But he did notice when her hands, again, accidentally brushed against his erection while she worked at his belt.

"Calleigh," he tipped her forehead to his, but she smiled sweetly at him, the way she did when she wanted to get her way, and it always worked without a doubt. One hand cupped the side of his cheek while she drew her lips to his, the other teasingly playing with the hem of his drawers, her fingers deftly skimming beneath the elastic band. And when he threaded his fingers back into her hair, pulling her closer, she let her hand delve down past his waistband as she grasped him and began to pump slowly. He gasped expectedly, the way her thumb teasingly played with the head, circling a bubble of precum around the tip always made his knees go weak. And then she broke the kiss, and without a moment's warning, dropped to her knees, both hands tugging at his waist band.

"Cal, you don't have to-" the rest of his sentence got stuck in his throat and he felt her press a wet kiss on the sensitive section of skin where the head met the shaft.

"I missed you," she murmured, glancing up at him, "all of you."

Any other protest he had was completely forgotten when she took the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him. Yea, he knew she couldn't stay down there for long, not if he was going to let this last as long as he wanted it to. He felt her tongue swirl around him again before she began to suck a line of wet kisses from tip to base, her tongue licking back up, swirling around him once more and slowly, slow to the point he couldn't tell if things were still in motion, she started to suck him in inch by inch, and when he let himself glance down at her he almost lost it.

There she was, on her knees with her eyes closed, sucking hungrily and moaning softly, the vibration sending little waves of pleasure through him. And it was _his_ dress shirt that was slung open around her, giving him a clear view of her cleavage and sexy lace. And to top it off a lace garter belt, one he recognized and had seen her in dozens of times, hugged her hips, the silk belt attached to lace stockings. It was too much, way too much. He nudged her shoulder and pulled her back up to him, kicking off his jeans and pushing her against the wall, his mouth on her throat while he tugged aside her bra and pinched her peak a bit too rough to be playful, but by the sounds of the little moans that were falling out of her, she obviously didn't mind.

It was when she moaned his name that both of his hands moved down to her bottom, squeezing tightly and hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around him, her heat grinding against him, and he had to take a minute to steady himself, pinning her to the wall in order to keep balance. But she wasn't too worried about that, not at all. They could fall into a heap right here and start going at it in her foyer and she wouldn't mind, all she cared about was being with him.

He put all of his weight against her, holding her to the wall while one hand found it's way back to her chest, the other venturing down to tuck between her thighs.

"Eric," she breathed as his fingers circled slowly over her clit. Her head fell back and he took the opportunity to suck at her throat, her moans only becoming more intense. Her nails scratched at his skin, hard enough to rip flesh, but it only made him hotter, made his fingers move faster.

"Eric," she tried to find her voice, "Eric bed."

He gave no verbal response, but his one hand moved to grip her hip, inadvertently grinding against her. He grunted, working to find his balance while keeping his hands between her thighs. He swung a little, but managed to sidestep his clothes and walk the short distance to the bedroom. And that's not to say it wasn't difficult, especially since she purposely grinded her hips against his. But he made it to the bed, somehow, dropping her carefully onto satin sheets. Red satin sheets that weren't the usual clothing for her bed. They were fuck me sheets plain and simple, and she'd only ever brought them out on _those_ nights. She must be trying to get him to stay, he figured, how could he deny her when she wore _that_ and brought out _these_ sheets? Honestly, though, looking down at her while she was propped on her elbows watching him in _his_ shirt and black lace, she was delicious, and she knew it. She teasingly traced her toes up the outside of his leg, then hooked her leg around his thigh, pulled him down to her. Their noses brushed and he left one small kiss on her lips before moving down her body, leaving soft kisses on her chest, her ribs, her belly, as he kissed down past her garter to the slick skin between her thighs. He left a sweet kiss on her knee before tracing his tongue down the inside of her thigh. She moaned with anticipation and she felt him smirk against her, but she couldn't blame him, for being smug, honestly. Eric was the only partner she had that spent so much time touching and teasing and tasting her, and he was the only partner she had that was doing everything for _her_ and not his ego.

When she felt a soft kiss at her center her head fell back. His tongue teased her, licking just the way she liked, just the way she didn't know she liked it until her and Eric. The soft sighs she was making made him dizzy. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer, his mouth sucking and nipping and licking at her core. When he felt her nails on his scalp he tightened his grip around her thighs, pulling her closer, dragging his tongue from opening to clit and back down again, retracing the path until she was crying out and breathless as she embarrassingly arched her hips closer to him. She couldn't help it though, her body always ended up moving at it's own accord while she was with Eric, in bed like this. He took it as a hint, though, evident when she felt his fingers teasing at her entrance, his tongue still rapidly flicking over her. And then, after far far too long, she felt one, then two fingers inside her. And the sigh of relief she made left Eric feeling weak. And then she moaned his name over and over again, it was a symphony he got lost in.

He grunted and kept her going, picking up the pace a little, rotating between teeth and tongue on her clit as he pumped his fingers hard inside her. And when he carefully slipped in a third her back arched, he felt the muscles in her legs begin to shake, and then she was pulling him away from her, reaching to grasp at his hair to stop him because she needed to fall over that edge _with him_ this time, this first time. She needed the intimacy, needed to feel that bond with him again, and Eric understood, he didn't playfully fight or insist with that _smirk_ like he had in the past- tonight he felt the need to be with her as deeply as she did. He held himself on his elbows, her body caged under his while he kissed her again, kissed her soft, easy, taking the time to dip his tongue past her lips as if they had all the time in the world.

While one of his hands stayed knotted in her hair, pulling her closer, kissing her harder, she reached down between them to grasp him. He grunted and she moaned when he pulled him to her, the tip nudging against her, and as she felt his hips start to move, start to enter her little by little, her fingers raked up his back from his hips, until she could tangle them in his hair as he sunk completely into her heat. He didn't move right away, she knew he needed to take a minute to compose himself, to catch his breath at the feel of being so intimately intertwined with her once again. As he filled her completely, she felt whole, felt complete, felt like the part of her that'd been missing these past two years was finally filled, she felt a little less broken, a little less alone.

"Eric," she sighed, his mouth sucking soft kisses on her throat, "I missed you."  
At that, he thrust into her hard, deep, and she couldn't stop the throaty moan that fell from her if she tried. He stayed inside her, buried to the hilt and then pulled out almost completely and thrust _hard_. She grunted his name, her hands fleeting over every patch of warm skin she could find. She trailed her fingers down to his hips, squeezing lightly and pulling him deep on the next thrust.

"Eric-" her voice was sweet, his head in the crook of her neck, trying to pace himself, to make it last, to keep them together. And in his wake of stillness, of savoring the feeling of her warmth around him, she wrapped her legs tight around his hips, pushed at his shoulders and rolled so that she was on top. He was caught off guard, that was clear, but looking at her on top of him in the black lace and _his_ button down shirt, he was entirely okay with letting her run the show. When she dressed like this, though, that's how she planned the evening to work out anyways. She was going to be in control, and it made her feel sexy and confident and Eric sure as hell had no problem with it, not at all.

"God Calleigh," he murmured, his one hand reaching up to cup a breast and feel the silky lace beneath his palm. He pushed aside the cup, rubbing and tugging at her, squeezing and pinching maybe a little too rough to be playful, but it made her moan and her hips started to move. He missed everything about their relationship, but this was most definitely near the top of the list. He _loved_ seeing her like this, seeing her on top of him, riding him, her hands scraping at his chest and belly, his one hand on her breast, the other on her hip, squeezing hard, keeping her going. When she ducked her head to steal a kiss, his hand left her breast and tangled in her hair, pulling her lips closer, tracing her tongue with his while her hips became almost erratic, the new angle pushing her closer and closer to the edge, and he was right there with her.

He met her thrusts hard, biting at her bottom lip, grunting her name over and over, and hearing his voice, the utter need and love she heard, was almost enough, almost, though not quite.

"Unn Eric, _Eric_ " one hand left her hair, moving between their sweaty bodies, down to where their hips moved together, faster, deeper, harder. His fingers brushed over her softly, and then without warning, pushed hard against her, his hand still on her hip to keep her moving, keep her riding. And then he felt it, felt her muscles clench around him, felt her body stiffen and her legs begin to shake, heard her moan his name over and over and over again.

With his hand on her hip he kept her moving, kept her riding, kept her coming, until he felt that sunrise of bliss ready to take over him, ready to explode him out of his mind. He kept his thumb hard against her center, kept her going, and when she groaned his name once more and scraped her nails over his scalp he finally poured into her, gripping her hip _hard._ He felt her chest fall against his, her silk hair tickling his sweaty skin. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand stroking tenderly through her hair, the other reaching beneath the cotton shirt she wore to unhook her bra and snake it over her shoulder, pulling her closer. They lay there for a while, her head nudged against his neck, his arms tight around her, making sure that she was real and not some fantasy that got questionably out of hand. It was nice though, peaceful. He could stay like this forever, with her, floating in afterglow. No worries, no questions, no regrets, just the two of them, together, holding one another.

He felt her pick her head up, but didn't really realize she had until she brushed her lips over his, once, twice, a third and fourth time, and he felt her roll off of him a moment later. He started to reach for her, but heard the rustling of clothing falling to the ground and then felt a warm blanket cover them both as she snuggled up to his side.

When she tangled their legs he noticed hers were as bare as his, "hey," he teased, nuzzing her hair and skating the hand on her back down to her thigh and squeezing, "those were sexy"

He felt her smile against his chest, "mhm."

He trailed his arm back up, wrapping protectively around her torso, "I love you," it was barely a whisper, but she heard, snuggled closer, "I love you too."

They were so relaxed, the mood warm and even, he hadn't felt this at peace since before everything happened, and he didn't want to ruin the moment by stating the obvious, needing to talk about everything that had happened. There was so much to say, he didn't know where to start, what to say, how to say it, other than that he loved her, and only her. Forever. And that's why it had to happen in the first place.

When she felt his arm reach over to her nightstand she grunted questionably, and then she heard the pushing of buttons and realized he was setting an alarm.

"I need to make sure to get back in time before they notice," he murmured, his arm snaking back around her.

She didn't want to think about that, didn't want to think about anything other than being with him, with her best friend, her partner, the only person she could say she loved and trusted unconditionally. She didn't want to think about how he was no longer CSI Eric Delko, how they needed to pretend they didn't know one another, how she needed to pretend she wasn't head-over-heals in love with her best friend. She just wanted everything to go back to the way it was, the way it was supposed to be, the way it was 2 years ago when they were in bed, holding each other and basking in afterglow, worrying about how early they needed to wake up so they could have time to make love again before work instead of having to make time so he could return as SSA Luke Alvez without anyone on his team realizing he'd had a double life here.

But the reality of his words set and she snuggled closer, lacing her hand with his, "please don't leave."  
Her voice was a whisper, and he knew it was because she'd start crying if it was anything above that, and it broke his heart a little more, if that was even possible.

She composed herself a little, took a few deep breaths until she was certain no tears would fall, and spoke, "tell them you forgot a friend of yours moved down here or something."

Yes, he realized, his heart could continue to break.

He nudged her so he could turn on his side and level her eyes with his. One hand cupped her cheek, the other stroking through her hair, "I'm not leaving," he murmured, laying a soft kiss on her nose, "I just need to get up earlier than usual so I can meet them at the hotel early. I'm still kind of the new guy," he smirked, "I don't want them to think I'm getting into an illegal Miami shenanigans."

She smiled, "you sure sleeping with a CSI while being an FBI agent isn't considered illegal Miami shenanigans?" The way they'd been able to slip between teasing one another so easily, even if over something serious, was something she'd appreciated throughout the phases of their relationship. She'd always felt so comfortable around him, felt safe, even with her heartbreaking at the situation, their playful teasing helped ease the pain.

His fingers stroked through her hair in an effort to make her eyes meet his, "When we're here, when we're together, when we're like _this,"_ He pressed his lips to hers for emphasis, "I'm Eric. I don't care about the FBI or CSI or any other investigative units, all I care about is you. Us. I love you Calleigh, you're what's important to me."

She pulled him into a tight hug, and they readjusted, him on his back, her on her side against him, holding each other close, "why did you leave?"

He knew the question was coming, didn't know what to say, how to tell her, if he even should. He'd thought about it on the plane, vaguely, but what he'd come up with, he couldn't remember. All he knew now is that there's no going back, either he gets back on that plane with her, or he's staying here with her. But 2 years was long enough, he wasn't about to go any longer.

"I'll explain everything," he promised, weaving their fingers together, "over dinner, I'll explain everything."

"Okay," she breathed, leaving a soft kiss on his chest, "I love you."

"I love you too."

And for the first time in 2 years they both found themselves drifting easily to a good night's sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Rated M for sexual content proceed with caution**

The alarm blared and she rolled to slap it into silence for another couple of minutes. Loneliness fell over her, exhausted from the earliness of the alarm, she vaguely forgot that Eric was with her. But then she felt his arm fall heavy over her torso as he shifted to spoon behind her, pulling her close. She felt lazy kisses trace her neck, sucking lightly and tiredly, and it made her melt, honestly. The fact that his first instinct when barely at the semi-conscious level was to reach for her proved how real his love for her was. Even after 2 years apart they'd fallen back together like it was nothing, like it was just another morning with her like any other. And she thought, for the next couple minutes anyways, she'd let herself try and believe that.

Her fingers traced over his hand and she sighed when he felt him just below her ear, sucking warm kisses along her skin. As he explored her neck he let one hand stroke tenderly through her hair and she sighed his name, couldn't help it, not while in her sleepy state, not while she tried to pretend things were back to the way they were before. Everytime she tiredly slammed the alarm to snooze, he'd always rolled to spoon her if he wasn't already, he'd always pulled her closer, always started leaving sleepy kisses on her neck. She missed this, missed them, missed waking up next to him. She felt him press a tender kiss in her hair while he shifted to turn off the alarm before it blast angrily again and ruin the peace of the moment.

"What time is it?" He murmured in her hair.

"3:50."

She felt him smile, squeezed her tight, and then she felt him at her ear, his tired voice rough and sexy and it never failed to make her shiver, "I'm not leaving you after the case," he promised, "not again, I'll figure it out,"

She wanted to argue, wanted to say he needed to do what was best, but she couldn't, not after having him back, she couldn't just have him leave. Not again. Despite always seeming so strong and put together, when he left- was _forced_ to leave- it broke her, deep down in a way she'd never admit to anyone out loud, she'd barely even let herself believe it. She'd never been the type of woman to lie awake at 2 in the morning crying because she was lonely and missed someone, surely had never been the type of woman that would do that on a regular basis. She couldn't deal with him leaving again, couldn't go through it and come out alive.

As she felt sleep begin to overtake her again, felt herself getting a little too comfortable in his arms, she forced her eyes wide open in a vain attempt to stay awake.

She didn't want to leave his warmth, didn't want to untangle herself from him, but she knew he needed to get ready, knew she needed to drive him to the hotel. So she shifted in his arms to face him, running her hands through his hair, over his beard, and smiled, "I love your hair."

"Mhm," he murmured, "I'm glad," he lifted a hand to brush a strand of her own hair out of her face, then pulled her to him, their foreheads touching, he smiled that sexy smile she missed so much, then dropped his lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss as he cupped the back of her skull, pulling her closer. Eric was always good at persuasion always good at finding a way to get what he wants, and kissing her like this was a sure fire way to do precisely that. With a kiss like this, a kiss so simple and intimate and foggy from the undertones of sleep, she sure as hell wasn't about to let him leave again, she'd change her name and move underground and get cosmetic surgery if she had to, he wasn't going anywhere without her.

He nibbled at her lower lip and she opened for him, his tongue skating into her mouth to deepen the kiss. She tangled their legs, doing everything and anything she could to bring him closer to her, to feel his bare skin on hers. But he broke the kiss, regretfully so, and she knew they were on a schedule, knew she had to get him back to the hotel before anyone noticed he'd never gone there in the first place. Brushing their noses together, she smiled, "I'll make coffee." He knew it was necessary, knew they couldn't stay in bed together forever, but before she could roll out of bed he laced their hands and reminded her of his promise, "Tonight," he said, "Dinner, don't forget."

She left one last kiss and mumbled okay. And then he let her go, watched her roll out of bed, smirked as he watched her put on, not the button down she'd used to seduce him the night before, but the black T-shirt he'd worn yesterday, undoubtedly because despite having to escape his warmth, she wasn't willing to lose his scent. She caught him smiling at her and she blushed, and the fact that he could still have that effect on her warmed him, because he knew no one in any of her other relationships could make her feel sheepish, and even if they could he knew she'd never show it. Even before her and Eric stumbled into bed together, he'd always had such an intimate effect on her.

"Up," she said with a smile, reaching to grab his hand, weaving their fingers together.

"I'm up," he declared with laugh, letting her tug him into a sitting position.

"Go get ready," she smiled, tracing the back of her hand tenderly down his cheek.

He returned the smile, grabbing her hand and leaving a soft kiss on her knuckles, "okay."

She blushed and she knew it, pulled her hand away from his, and walked to the kitchen. She knew he was watching, made sure to sway her hips for him, knowing the effect it would have. Obviously getting him to the hotel without anyone noticing wasn't _really_ at the top of her list of priorities, two could play at that game, he thought. He figured he might as well indulge her into thinking he was getting ready. As he made his way to the bathroom he noticed that his toothbrush, the one he'd left because he was over so frequently, still stood inside the glass cup right beside hers. The fact that it was still here really made clear that she'd put their relationship on pause, hopeful that he'd return. As much as it warmed him, it also made his heart ache, reminded him of all the nights she'd had to wake up to an empty bed, had to go asleep alone without him, and he hoped it wasn't anywhere nearly as painful for her as it was for him. But he was here now, that's what was important, and he wasn't going anywhere, they'd have to kill him first. He splashed his face with cold water and ran his toothbrush under the faucet, brushed his teeth quickly and turned to set out to the kitchen.

His heart raced while he watched her standing in front of the coffee machine, his black shirt only brushing mid thigh, and like predator in search of prey, he quietly tiptoed into the kitchen, silently settling behind her, his hands finding her hips, his lips finding her neck.

"You're supposed to be getting ready," she murmured, tilting her head to the side, the little sigh she let out making it obvious that those were just words, just a way to make it seem like she was making an effort to be productive, and in retrospect that's what got them into this mess to start with. A few years ago they'd been saying they weren't going to let it keep happening, sleeping together. But those had been just words, existing only as a way to make it appear like they were trying to stop it, stop them, when they both knew that that wasn't going to happen, that it wasn't even an option.

"I am ready," his arms moved to cross tight over her belly, pulling her hard against him, "and besides, you're in my shirt," he pointed out with a smirk, "and I can't go back to the hotel in my shirt you wore last night, they won't know where it came from."

She sighed when he sucked on the bottom of her ear, his arms shifting so his hands could grasp her breasts, covered by nothing but a thin piece of black cotton. She sighed as he rolled over a hardening peak, her head tilting further to the side to grant him better access to the curve of her neck. She couldn't fight with his logic even if she wanted to, not when he was already making her melt within seconds of being in his arms. When she sighed his name, her skin feeling almost electrical under his, she realized he wore _only_ skin, and despite his fingers on her breasts and his tongue on her neck making it difficult to move or think or even breath, she found the strength to move one of her hands down behind her and give him a light stroke.

He groaned softly against her skin and she smirked, liked having that kind of power, and kept moving her hand slowly up and down him. With a chaste kiss to her temple he brought his hands back to her hips, gripping with what little strength he had and lifting her up onto the counter, nudging her to twist so she could face him. And before he could get a proper look at her on the counter perched sexily beside the coffee machine, her hands framed his face, fiercely pulling his lips to hers, his one hand on the back of her skull, his other slithering down between her thighs, teasing her with tender strokes then nudging to the warmth between. She groaned, her head falling back, her hands scratching at his shoulders. His fingers brushed over her center, she gasped, and he did it again, and she gasped again, struggling to find her words.

"We- don-t have time," she half moaned, her fingers now trailing down his chest, never failing to run her palm over the contours of his muscles. Her hand grasped him again and started to pump, and now it was his turn to moan, having no control over his own hips, accidentally bucking them against her as he slid through her hand. Didn't have time? She obviously didn't care, not at all, because then he felt her guide him to her warmth, sliding over her few times, indulging him in a low groan of his name, and that was too much for him. With his head falling against her shoulder he entered her, his hands on her hips, his thrusts slow yet hard, deep, and she wrapped her legs around him. He needed a minute to compose himself, to bask in the feeling of her warmth. After a minute, he nipped at her shoulder and started moving, pulling out almost completely and pushing himself back inside her, enveloped in her warmth.

With her legs wrapped tight around him, she pulled him deeper on the next thrust, letting out a harsh groan and scraping her nails along his shoulders, his back, his chest. And then he did it again, burying himself to the hilt, pleasure radiating inside her. She tangled her hands in his hair, and the fact that she was able to grab and pull it pushed her that much closer to the edge- she'd always had a thing for guys with long hair. There was something oddly satisfying about being able to tangle your hands and grasp him closer, and he didn't seem to mind anyways.

Her lips met his again and she deepened the kiss, biting at his lower lip, slithering her tongue beside his, making him thrust deeper, harder, longer, and he'd barely been inside her but she already felt the warm pleasure boiling low in her belly. Her body couldn't help it, not after so long without him. But given their time constraint, that's probably not a bad thing.

His hand palmed her breast, fingers rolling and squeezing her nipple, and she tore her lips from his, her head falling back, and she didn't really notice when it hit the cabinet, though he did, of course he did. His hand moved from her breast to cradle her head, the other staying rooted at her hip. And before she could protest losing his warm hand from her chest, he used his other hand to tug up her(his) shirt up over her head, and then he ducked his head and sucked at the swells. Her head fell back yet again while he teased her nipple, though this time she felt the strength of his hand instead of the wood cabinet. His teeth and tongue nipped and rolled over her, it was so good, almost too much, honestly. And the hand that was on her hip released it's tight grip on her, undoubtedly leaving a red handprint there, and forced it's way between her thighs.

With teeth and tongue on her breasts and his thumb rubbing quick, hard circles and deep thrusts between her thighs, pleasure boiled up her spine and she felt it explode, felt it vibrate and rocket through each vertebrae, leaving her feel like complete jelly while the waves of her orgasm kept coming, his thumb still working hard against her, and as she moaned his name it was enough to push him over, it always was. The fact that while in the depths of her orgasm- where thinking clearly was not an option- it was _his_ name she yelled, _him_ that was on her mind, _him_ that she truly wanted. And with one last sharp thrust he spilled into her completely, she could feel his hips spasm involuntarily against her, and then her hands found his face, pulling him up to her, their foreheads together before languidly brushing their lips together, her legs going limp around his waist. She pulled back but kept their foreheads together, not ready to lose any sort of contact, as they both caught their breath, coming down back to reality. She couldn't really think, didn't even know if she could move. And he wasn't any better off, in fact, with what little thought process she was able to have, she momentarily wondered how the hell he was still standing, she was barely able to keep her body up, so how he was standing was beyond her. But the past 12 hours and how it was possible that he was back in Miami, that he was here with her, inside her, was also beyond her. So maybe it was fitting.

She wasn't ready for him to pull out of her, wasn't ready to lose him again, but it was inevitable, and then he tangled his hands in her hair again, pulled her close to him, held her tight, her head on his chest. For just a moment she felt herself wishing they were in highschool or college, where neither had any real responsibilities and wouldn't be utterly screwed if they played hooky for a day. She just needed him, just needed to spend a day together curled in bed and watching dumb movie after dumb movie with no other thought other than the fact that they were together. Calleigh was not one to wallow in self pity, but she just couldn't help but wonder _why_ this had happened to them? Had they not been through enough? They've both almost died, they've both put their life on the line for the citizens of this city, and they'd spent years dilly dallying around one another, wasting time pretending they didn't have feelings. She didn't understand why this wasn't enough turmoil for the both of them. Through the years, since the shooting, she'd ask herself why God would do this to her, to them. And she got comfortable in the concept that God wasn't really there, because it was the only explanation she'd been able to find. It was the only one she had right now. The capital G had become lowercase, and she felt herself hold onto Eric a little tighter, wishing there was a better explanation.

She felt his lips in her hair, felt him nuzzling but then heard him begin to speak.

"I love you," he murmured, "but I need to get going. Tonight, dinner, meet me at Versailles around 7."

He felt her smile against his chest, "we can drive together, you know."

He chuckled, "yea we could but... I have a feeling we won't be very inconspicuous."

"I love you," she left a warm kiss on his chest, "I'm sorry if I didn't say it enough."

"You said it when you were ready, that's what matters."

She gave him a tight squeeze and turned her head to plant a couple kisses along his shoulder, "you gotta get going, don't want anything to ruin dinner."

He smiled, "mhm you're indeed correct, it only takes me a couple minutes to put on clothes, though."

"Yea but I gotta drop you off a block from the hotel," she pointed out, "and tonight, there _will_ be a way for us to spend the night together without having to sneak around."  
He snickered, "brings back memories. I'll be ready in 5, okay?"

"Okay," she replied letting him escape from her embrace and to the bathroom. And she missed him already, and she found herself realizing how dangerous that is. She'd never felt like she _needed_ someone, especially a man, with John offing himself and Jake coming and going, she learned to not get too close, learned to lower her expectations, because maybe it was just asking too much for someone to not break her heart, for someone to be steady and stable. And then there Eric was... With his charm and obvious adoration of her, hell, he _wanted_ to settle down with her, wanted to have a future with her, but she couldn't help but wonder if maybe that was just asking for too much. She thought she'd rid herself of the empty feeling, now that he was back, but even if he was only a few feet from her, she felt it wash over her. She hated that he was able to get under her skin like that, to make her feel like she couldn't breathe without him, like her heart couldn't beat without him. And really she couldn't fault him for it, it's not like he _chose_ this. No, not at all. He'd already had a ring ready, had been ready to ask her to be his forever. And she'd have said yes, would have said it a million times over, and he needed to know that.

Tonight, dinner, he promised to explain everything, and knowing that would make it extra difficult to get through the day, and having him there supposedly as a stranger, would make it even more antagonizing. But she's gotten through the past 2 years, she'll survive the next 15 hours.


	7. Chapter 7

He figured his luck wouldn't last, knew they'd start asking questions, knew they'd catch on that something was wrong with him. He thought he was doing a pretty good job at keeping his emotions underground, he hadn't spent much time with his team here for them to be suspicious. But it was his lack of attendance that did it in for him. He thought it was early enough, figured they wouldn't start getting up until 6, and it was currently only a few minutes before 5, plus she'd dropped him off a block away, so there was no way anyone saw them.

Yet there sat Derek in the lobby of the hotel, obviously waiting for him, and by the almost finished book in his hand that he'd started on the plane, he'd definitely been waiting here a while. Eric's heart raced as he walked into the hotel, there was absolutely no getting around this, no way to sneak past him like a teenager that snuck out at night, he could try his best to fool him, at least for right now. But he knew he had to get this figured out, needed to talk to Horatio. There was no way in hell he could live a double life while being surrounded by profilers, in a city he'd supposedly never been to. But for right now, Derek was about to get whatever flimsy excuse Eric come up with. He didn't have much to work with.

"You know I think prostitution is still illegal in Miami, Alvez."

Eric appreciated his smirk and the easiness of his words, even though he knew it was only to get him talking. He smirked back and played along, "Yea I think you're right."

Derek stood, and Eric became conscious of the fact that he probably smelled straight like Calleigh. He'd been tangled in all of her- her bed, her sheets, _her_ , not to mention she'd decided to wear the black shirt she knew he'd need to wear back out. And he'd splashed water on his face, hoping it'd help him somehow not look like he'd been fucked out of his mind. He didn't find any _visible_ marks, but then again, sometimes they didn't appear right away.

"You holding out on me?" Derek asked with a smirk, "you uh, get a little lucky hmm?"

Well kinda, yea, in a way, having to work on a case with MDPD seemed pretty lucky if you asked him, but he knew that's not what Derek meant.

"Something like that," he said tiredly, failing at stifling a yawn.

Morgan just laughed, slapping him on his back, "she had you going all night, I see," he reached into his pocket, "here," he said handing Eric a white key card, "you might want to try and take nap. And you're gonna need to take me to whatever bar you found yourself at."

Eric smirked and nodded, wondering if he was really getting away with this, if this was really that simple. But he knew it couldn't be, life just didn't work like that. But he didn't question it, figured that wouldn't do him any good, so he decided to count his blessings and hope maybe for once he got dealt an easy hand.


	8. Chapter 8

When Morgan made the offer to drive he and Eric to the lab earlier than the rest of the team, Eric wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or mortified. His anxiety settled between those options, relieved that he wouldn't be forced to face the wrath of questions from JJ(mainly) and Rossi and Spencer(though frankly, Eric didn't think he cared too much), but mortified by the wrath of questions Morgan would have about his "one night stand." There was no way in _hell_ Eric was going to describe anything remotely similar to last night, but luckily, many years ago Eric Delko was an only "one night stand" kind of guy, so he had his fair share of stories.

"She have a sister?" Derek teased.

Eric laughed, maybe a little too hard but Derek didn't notice, "no I uh, we didn't really get that far."  
"Alright, alright," Derek smirked, "you gonna ask her about it tonight?"  
Was this real life? Was Derek not only buying this but actually making it easier for him? Pretty much telling him to go out again tonight? Expecting him to go out again? Eric was beyond confused and couldn't tell if Morgan was just playing a sick twisted game or was testing out some new interrogation techniques he wasn't familiar with because this just wasn't possible. It was too easy, there was no way...

"Don't tell me you ain't get her number Alvez!"  
Morgan mine as well have big, flashing, airport direction signals practically forcing him to take off, and Eric wasn't about to ponder on it or question it. He was gonna take what he could get, and if Morgan decided to make things easier on him then so be it.

"I did we uh, we have plans later tonight."

Morgan slapped a hand on his back while they turned into the parking lot of the lab, "tonight, do me a favor and ask her about a sister? Before she rides you and makes you go all crosseyed and forget?"

He'd said it so casually Eric almost hadn't realized what he'd said, and when he had he was damn glad he hadn't taken a sip of coffee because he would have choked and Morgan would have to pull over and give him the Heimlich. He obviously didn't mind getting right to the point, and he smirked at Eric's obvious surprise to his comment, "don't forget man,"

Eric nodded, still confused and muddled and just... well... Confused. At least he'd gotten around the details, though that was the one part he'd kind of been prepared for. He was gonna describe the stereotypical girl at the stereotypical bar in search of the stereotypical one night stand, simple, straight to the point, he'd had dozens of them before, none that he was necessarily proud of.

But it was irrelevant now, they were at the lab, Morgan had just put the car into park, and all he needed to do was get through the day. Simple? No not exactly, his head sure as hell wasn't going to be in the game. He'd gotten good at separating his personal beliefs _about_ a case from the investigation within itself, but he'd sometimes fall victim to letting non related issues interfere with his concentration.

As he and Morgan walked towards the lab he knew that he would be pretty useless in this case, how was he supposed to concentrate with her just a few feet away? He thought that maybe after having one night together it would help him focus, help recede some of that pent up need and desire that'd been ready to explode from being apart for so long. But now here she was, waiting outside for them while talking on the phone, and Eric recognized that look, it was a distressed one, the one she got when there was another call out related to their current case. Those always had a way of getting to her.

As they approached she hung up the phone and Morgan spoke, "you okay?"  
"They found another body in Overtown. That was Horatio," she looked up to Morgan, "he wants you, SSA Jareau, and Dr Reid building a geographical profile with him inside, and me, SSA Alvez and SSA Rossi at the scene."

Ah Horatio, he was always one to look out for the members on his team, wasn't he? Even the ones that weren't technically there anymore. Calleigh made her way beside Eric and looked towards Morgan, "Horatio should be in the lobby, we'll have CSI send you all of the information."  
Derek nodded and Calleigh turned glancing to Eric, signaling him to follow. He nodded his goodbye to Derek and followed Cal to the Hummer. Getting into the passenger seat, he let himself for a second indulge in the feeling of things being back to normal, like they were going to any other crime scene, and his kit was in the back and they were gonna meet Horatio and Frank and Tom and duck under the yellow crime scene tape as a CSI, not The FBI. Speaking of CSI's... who were the CSI's on the case? Eric doubted Horatio would have been able to pull off having the entire team on the case considering it was hard to just have Calleigh on the case. And there's not way H would be able to let _all_ of them take a vacation at the same time. So, with that said, where were Ryan and Nat and Walter? What did they know? What did H tell them?

He waited until Calleigh switched the gear to drive and they were outside the lab parking lot and away from the view of others to ask, "Where... is everyone? What do they know?"

"Horatio sent them to Broward to work on a case, told them they were understaffed," she glanced at him through the mirror and offered a smile, "they know what I know, they just didn't spend that night with you."

Closure. That's what they missed out on, and a ring. His absence was out of the blue to them, but Calleigh had at least been given some kind of forewarning so she wouldn't have been left to figure it out alone. An unspoken forewarning in the most heartbreaking way possible, but despite crying when she'd woken up without him, stuffing her face into his pillow and screaming until her lungs ached, it was better than not knowing at all.

"What do you know?" His hand reached over out of habit to rest on her thigh, but then thought better of it and pulled it back to him, and it made her ache, having him so close to her yet having to pretend that he wasn't.

"Horatio told the team that your safety was at risk and that you were moved into protective custody. He said that was all he could say." He nodded, he could hear the pain in her words, could hear the emotional toll it took on her. This time he did reach his hand over to her, resting on her thigh. He could feel the tension begin to leave her body, could feel the relief wash over her.

"I'm here now," he said, "not going anywhere."

She smiled,"yea," glanced to him, and started to stop the car, "we're here."

Shifting his attention to the scene, he noticed they were at gas station in the center of Overtown, one they'd been called out to on more than one occasion. It made him question whether or not this was related to the case.

"What makes H believe this is related?" Eric asked. The MO was completely off, there was no tarp around the vics body but there was a blood pool beside him from what easily looked like a gunshot wound. That didn't fit, considering all the previous vics were strangled. Plus all of the bodies had been dumped somewhere by The Glades, not at a busy gas station in a sketchy neighborhood. There was obviously no relation to the case they were working on, it was just another one of those cases they'd worked dozens of times. Drive by shooting from the looks of it, and if Eric recalls correctly, this would be his fourth or fifth call out to this gas station. That alone should have tipped H off that this was unrelated.

"He doesn't," Calleigh replied, "he's buying us time to try and briefly talk about us and what's happened and how we're gonna handle this."

Eric smiled, beyond grateful for H, "he's always looked out for everyone."

"Yea," she smiled warmly, "text Rossi and tell him false alarm before he comes down here."

Eric nodded, "you think this was just your average drive by?"

"Completely."

They didn't even get out of the car, which made Eric laugh, leave it to Horatio to pull something like that.

He kept his gaze on her as she began to drive off, watching her with a smile of complete adoration, he was so in love with her, wasn't he? He loved everything about her, from her laugh to her smile to the scowl of concentration she wore on a particularly hard case. She was his, completely, and it made his heart race. But he'd have plenty of time to admire later, right now he owed her an explanation, wanting to save the minute details for later at dinner, when they could _really_ talk.

"The Russians," he said suddenly, his hand moving back to her thigh. She figured it was the Russians, they were the only ones that ever put him in such danger, so that part was unshocking. But she also thought it was over after everything with his father was swept under the rug. She still felt a little ache inside her, thinking about that day. She'd shot at him, she drowned in fear when they couldn't find him. She was convinced she'd killed him, at least helped along the way, anyways. They'd called her bullet girl for a reason, she had a great shot and she knew it. Those hours without him were almost as agonizing as these past two years without him. The only difference was that day during the shoot out, she feared not only his death but that she was the cause of it. She knew these two years weren't about her. But still, two years weighed out 12 hours in her book.

They both thought it was over after Memmo got incarcerated. Thought he was finally through with the Russians and Mala Noche, thought losing his sister, almost losing his life and his citizenship was enough. But it wasn't over, it feels like it never will be.

He squeezed her thigh, "Memmo," he explained, "his daughter Elsa was kidnapped while he was in prison."

She nodded, moving one hand from the steering wheel to lace with his, "and you're connected somehow?"

"Yea," he sighed and looked at their hands laced and it always amazed him, when he glanced at their fingers weaved together. They were so different in every aspect of the word, his hands large his skin carmel, her hands tiny her skin pale. Yet he'd never felt so connected with anyone before.

"My father's connected," he went on, "which means I'm connected by proxy, and that puts all of you in danger."

She sighed sadly, glanced to him, "I'm sorry Eric."  
He smiled though only to comfort her, "it's okay."  
As they turned down the street to the lab he gave her hand a squeeze before pulling away, "I love you."

"I love you too," and as they pulled up she saw Horatio standing on the steps outside the precinct with Rossi, and it made him anxious. Rossi was good at his job, chose to come back despite not needing to, and even though they had this rule to not profile one another, every so often it was broken for the sake of their safety and emotional wellbeing. And while he'd appreciate it on any other occasion, this was something that needed to be kept alone.

Getting out of the hummer he felt Rossi's eyes on him, watching his body language and facial expressions, which only made it worse.

"False alarm," Calleigh yelled meeting Eric and walking towards them. She looked to Rossi with a professional smile, "I'm generally a CSI not a supervisor on a case like this, PD called me unaware of the exception."

Rossi nodded, "fair enough," he looked to Eric, "Reid told me yesterday you went to print out more info about the hurricanes but that they were out of ink?"  
He nodded, "yes."

Rossi frowned with curiosity but decided not to push him on it right now, knew it was no good, figured he'd ask Horatio about it later.

The rest of the day was simple, but he didn't exactly have his head in the game. He offered the occasional nod and a grunt of agreement, he vaguely recalled something about JJ waiting to release a report to the press until they knew more. It was clear he'd be the type of unsub to want to be known for his work as a way to honor those he lost in hurricanes, but letting the press try and dissect a criminal with a very vague profile would most likely cause him to kill again, and much sooner. He had one hurricane left that fit the victimology, Hurricane Matthew, which means there is one more person in the Miami area that would become a victim. The press could very easily be a catalyst if handled incorrectly. They just needed to learn more.

For the most part, Eric spent time sorting through different files with Spencer, trying to find a possible connection through the victims, but there simply was no pattern outside of names. The victims all worked either in retail or the food industry, any type of business that would require someone to wear a nametag, with the exception of Philip Opal, who was an attorney that had his advertisement all over the city, from billboards to public transportation to benches at bus stops.

Andrew Cunningham worked at a mechanics shop in Overtown, Erin Taylor at an Office Depot in Hialeah, Charly Anderson at a Walmart in Florida City, Ivan at a Cuban restaurant in South Beach, Jeanne was a bartender at a club in Miami Beach, Dennis at a gas station in Liberty City, Katrina a Goodwill in Doral, and Wilma an IHop in Sunrise. The only pattern between all of them was that there was no pattern, the victims both worked and lived all over Miami, all of different socioeconomic backgrounds, ethnicity, and age.

They figured Hurricane Andrew being the oldest hurricane was where the unsub first lost someone, but there were 65 deaths caused by Andrew, and many either went unidentified or the records were lost overtime, so trying to find an accurate connection was near impossible, especially in a city with many Cuban immigrants that are _legal_ but not documented. And this also proved difficult in trying to provide a possible description to the press about the unsub. A male, either white or Cuban, between the ages of 25 and 40, that worked in a "blue-collar" type job, defined 75% of males living in Miami and the surrounding areas. The only thing they had to really depend on was him reaching out to the BAU about the murders, but building a better profile with such scattered victimology was near impossible when they lacked major forensic evidence. The powder they'd found at the two most recent scenes was baking soda, and it was clear it was just transfer from unsub to vic with no legitimate behavioral purpose behind it.

Eric was exhausted from staring at papers, and as he watched the clock tick down the minutes to six, it only made him less focused. The only real bright side to this case was the long length between kills, which at least gave them more time to thoroughly try and create a profile, meaning they weren't going to be up all hours of the night trying to work the case. And that meant Eric should be able to sneak away for dinner without it seeming like he was deprioritizing the case. He was, if he were honest, he tried not to but there were more than enough people working the case. So when Morgan texted them saying talking to the victims families was a bust and that they'd be better off tomorrow when talking to their coworkers, Eric freed himself, Spencers only comment being "Have fun and be safe." He'd probably figured it out on his own, Derek just giving confirmation. It was nice at least, relieving. He hated sneaking around and lying to his team, but at least now he was only _lying_ instead of having to be a teenager again and pretend to go to sleep but sneak out the window or put pillows under the blanket to make it look as if someone was asleep. He had his fair share of those adventures, and the majority of them never really went as planned. This though, Dinner and spending the night, needed to go exactly as planned. He thought he might die if they were distracted or called out or whatever. But right now his light was green and he was in the clear to go, the BAU the last thing on his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

Versailles was real, authentic Cuban food- something he'd missed almost as much as he'd Calleigh. In Atlanta they had Buford Highway, which was a long road that stretched from a little north of Midtown up across miles of the Metro Atlanta area. It was most notably known for it's expanse of immigrants and the culture they brought with them. From Mexico to Korea to China, it was the one place people not native to the US could go to find their own people. But the Cuban food he'd found there wasn't what a Cuban would could call authentic, maybe authentic "Americas-failed-attempt-at-Cuban-food" but not the good stuff.

He was a little shocked that it wasn't as crowded as he thought it'd be, but that meant he could get a corner booth that offered a bit more privacy than the tables or the bar, so he wasn't complaining. Especially not when he saw Calleigh walk in wearing simple black dress, one that was not too fancy for the evening, but one that also never failed to make heads turn. He figured she'd come straight from work, treat it like she did when the gang went out for a drink after a long shift. But it made him smile, that she'd put thought into this, that she'd gone home and changed and was acting like it was a date rather than a... whatever this was. A "let-me-explain-why-I-had-to-unwillingly-leave-you" date, he concluded. Not something you'd expect someone to dress up for. But then again... it was probably more so for _after_ the talk.

She approached him with a warm smile and he stood, smiling in return.

"You look nice," he smirked, pulling her into a hug.

She chuckled and gave him a suggestive smile. Yea, definitely for after the talk.

"So," she said sitting across from him, noticing a glass of wine for her, a beer for him.

"So," he replied softly, reaching out across the table for her hand, "God I've missed you," he murmured, weaving their fingers together.

She blushed a little, hated that Eric had that power, and told him she'd missed him too.

"So Memmo's daughter Elsa?" she asked, starting the conversation he'd been anxious about having with her since getting the news he had to leave. He looked down to their hands, his thumb fondly tracing circles on her skin. It reminded him that she was here with him, and that was something he needed.

"Yea, Sharova... I thought it was over, you know?" he shook his head sadly, "Thought maybe when he realized what he was doing really screwed with my life... I guess he just didn't care."

Calleigh nodded, squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

"You remember Ivan Sarnoff?"

"Yea, Russian Mobster that had the three DOA's at his club. He's the guy that ordered Ryan to cover up the murder through kidnapping his friends son right? I thought Horatio killed him?"

"Yea, he did, but it wasn't enough. Someone else ended up taking over, Akim Lavrenty, and it would have been smarter for him to leave the whole thing alone. Remember when they tried to poison Sarnoff and Sharova crashed his car into the ambulance to prevent them from saving him?"

Calleigh remembered everything about that day, she hated to think about it. The fact that she shot at Eric, the fact that she could have killed him, the fact that she _thought_ she did, that pain, that agony was something she'd never forget. It hurt that he'd gone against what she told him, that he should leave it alone and not get involved. But Eric was stubborn and had difficulty putting aside his emotions at times, especially when he felt like he owed someone. And he felt exactly that, felt like he owed Sharova for coming forward as his father to prevent his deportation, and his gratitude for his biological father, despite everything he'd caused that endangered Erics life, was deeper than Calleigh's warning. It stung, but though she'd never admit it, she'd probably do the same thing for her father. Thinking she'd killed Eric hurt far more than him going against her, and that pain and fear she'd felt was something she'll never forget.

"Yea," she'd paused as if she was going to say more, but Eric frowned slightly at himself and how stupid he was that day, then ducked his head, lifting her hand to plant a kiss, an apology he didn't need to give.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, setting their hands down to the table.

She shook her head, "don't be. So Horatio killing Sarnoff triggered all of this?"

"He believed Sharova had to pay for failing to complete the hit. With these guys, it's not only about who they kill, but who does the killing. He failed, and Elsa was really the only thing he'd have some sort of leverage on. When Memmo found out he went crazy, stole a gun from a guard and escaped."

"Why wasn't our team notified? Who worked the case?"

"They had the FBI work the case, and they kept it under wraps. After learning that Sharova is my biological father and that they'd kidnapped Ryan once before, they thought Memmo was going to come after me, and they feared that if I were in Miami they'd go after someone on our team."

Sometimes she wished Eric would have just left his birth certificate and trying to figure out what his mother was hiding alone. She knew he couldn't, knew if she were in his shoes she'd end up doing the same thing, so she couldn't blame him for that. That's not his fault, she just hated what he found, hated how it tore them apart. She couldn't have that happen again.

"What now?" she cared more about this answer than what happened, honestly.

"They believe my father is in Brazil and Elsa is somewhere in Russia. Memmo believes I'm dead, and my father was told I am but he knows better. But now? The BAU has no idea about any of this, but the FBI team that worked the case when Memmo escaped as well as Homeland Security agreed that it was safe for me to work this case that came through the BAU. They told me to keep my head down and stay outside of the field and in the lab, just in case. But if you were to run 'Eric Delko' through any system it would say deceased, and the report that states the real situation is a confidential file no one has any access to."

"So you can't stay in Miami?" She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question, and there was no mistaking the sadness in her voice. It really could never be the way it used to be, no waking up to the Miami sun shining through the window, no more working scenes together or romantic walks on the beach. No more Eric Delko.

"I've got to go back to Quantico, I work for the FBI for a reason, for my safety. But I'll talk to Horatio, have him talk to Rossi and explain the situation. It wouldn't hurt to have a forensics expert come around with us on cases, if that's something you'd want."

She frowned at him, hated that through everything he was still a little insecure about their relationship. Of course she wanted to go with him and it saddened her that it he wasn't able to see that.

"Of course," she smiled, her other hand running sweetly down his cheek, "I love you, I can't do this without you. You think it could be that easy though? Being able to transfer?"

"Horatio holds a lot of weight, so you're gonna come with me one way or another, whether or not you were apart of the BAU is a different story, but considering I'm not supposed to know anything about forensics, having a forensics expert could be really useful," he paused to glance at her, his other hand covering hers on his cheek and pulling it down to the table beside their other hands, "Cal I love you and I want you to come with me and I know you said that you do but... Cal I don't think you understand what this is gonna mean. You're going to have to leave _everything_ for us to be together, and I don't want you to have to go through tha-"

She reached across the table, her hands laced with his tugging him forward just a little, while her belly and chest lay on the table, pressing her mouth to his, cutting him off like he had that one day when he was reinstated a citizen. What stood there still held now, she simply didn't care about what she was giving up to be with him, it was nothing compared to losing him.

She tilted her forehead, "Eric I don't care."

Had they not been in public she'd have kissed him again, hotter, probably would have pulled him across the table and ended up going at it right then and there. But by the look in her eye, Eric knew they were most definitely not going to be staying for dinner, he wondered if they were even gonna make it to the car without ripping each others clothes off. He and Calleigh hadn't been this... weak, in the sense that they couldn't help but go at it, in a really long time. Eric wasn't complaining though, so when he felt Calleigh start to tug at him, gesturing them to leave, he dropped a dub on the table and decided to let her run the show tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: I was stoned when I wrote this. I was stoned for a good portion of this fic... And last week. Rated M for sexual content, proceed with caution.**

How they'd successfully driven back to her apartment without winding up in the backseat of her car or causing an accident on Biscayne was beyond both of them. But they'd done it, barely, if evident by the way she unlocked the door to her apartment and yanked him inside. He'd been the one that was being restless though, kissing her neck while in the elevator, ghosting his hands down her sides while she tried to unlock the door to her home. He wasn't making it easy, and she couldn't help but think that it was on purpose- he always loved that kind of thing, loved making her shiver from anticipation. But she didn't really mind, she liked it actually, though she'd never admit it, liked getting to the point where they barely made it to her front door without going at it. She found it empowering, the effect she had on him, and he found it sexy, watching her try to keep it together and wait until they were safely inside. He loved getting under her skin and unraveling her, loved being able to make her melt so easily. With his chest flush to her back, his lips on her neck, his hands around her torso, she successfully opened the door, grabbed him by the collar pulling him inside and forcing him into a deep, wet, kiss. It was the kind of kiss that blocked out all of your senses, that you got lost in and made you forget everything except for the feel of lips and teeth and tongue.

She faintly heard her front door close, she remembered dropping her keys to the ground somewhere between the foyer and the closest wall to her, but that was all irrelevant now. With his back against the wall she tilted her head to deepen the kiss, her hands on the collar of his jacket as she helped him shrug out of it and drop to the floor. His hands immediately framed her face, pulling her closer to him, nipping at her bottom lip and snaking his tongue into her mouth, nostalgia taking over him. His hands cupped her jaw, tasting her, feeling her lips against his while her restless hands immediately reached for his belt, unbuckling and unzipping and diving her hands down past his waistband to stroke him. She swallowed his groan as she started to pump her hand over him, grasping him just right, falling into the same rhythm they had so many times before. And with her in _that_ dress giving him _that_ look, he was restless now too, inevitably so. His mouth left sloppy kisses on her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, while he palmed her breast, rolling a nipple against the soft fabric of her dress. She moaned his name, her hand still moving over him in quick, tight strokes. His freehand reached behind her, his fingers finding the zipper of her dress and tugging it down while she nudged his head up and forced their lips back together. She cupped his neck with her hand and pulled him closer, pushed her body hard against his and he moaned her name loudly, tearing his lips from hers and ducking his head down to suck on her breast. He knew that was one of her weaknesses, what got her feeling sexy and electrified. Her nails raked over his scalp as she felt his mouth on her, teasing with his teeth and then a quick swipe of tongue while he palmed her other breast, rolling her nipple in the same rhythm as the other.

Her head fell back on a gasp of his name as she pulled him closer to her, arched her back, the teasing of his tongue leaving her breathing hard and hot. But she pulled him away, somehow, forcing his lips to hers, her hands running down his back and his sides. And then he felt her pull away, and he glanced at her a bit confused but caught her knowing eye, as she got down on her knees in front of him, her hands on his waistband, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, tugging them down just enough to find his erection, clear as day. She didn't hesitate, not for a second, while she enveloped her lips around his head, her hand on his shaft. She gave a light suck, teasing him with her tongue, her hand experimentally squeezing to find just the right pressure. When she did he gasped her name through clenched teeth and felt her begin to bob, starting out slow, but unconsciously quickening the pace, sucking at him hungrily, while her hand moved over the lower half of his cock, pumping over the same trail as her mouth, up and down and up and down. And the she stopped abruptly, ran her tongue down the base and glanced at him while she slowly dragged her tongue up against him with a sinful smile. The naughty and seductive look in her eye made him pull her up- forced him to because he wouldn't be able to hold out long with her looking at him with _that_ look on her knees with her mouth on him- and into a deep wet kiss. His one hand on her breast, the other in her hair while she pushed him hard against the wall, kissing him hard, hungry, while he teased her. And then she broke the kiss abruptly, smiled, and grabbed his hand, shimmying and stepping out of her dress, tugging him to the couch only a few feet away.

His knees hit the back and she pushed him down, his back on the seat cushions while his legs dangled over the frame, his drawers and jeans still just below his erection. She pulled at the bottom of his pants and drew them down until the waist was past his feet and in a puddle on the floor. She smiled at him with _that_ smile and all he could do was groan.

And then she covered him with her mouth, the warmth of her lips surrounding his cock while she, again without any sort of hesitation, began to bob her head. Her hand following the same pace, her tongue swirling around him while she sucked him harder, faster. His fingers tangled in her hair while he watched her. And seeing her like this had been a fantasy he'd had of her long before they started working together. Since the first day they met in CSI impound, he'd had this fantasy, and granted he'd never expect her to go down on him, hell he'd _told_ her that on numerous occasions, but sometimes she insisted, other times the anticipation felt too good to try and stop her. Despite his gentlemanly protests in the past, she knew _he knew_ it was silly to try and stop a fantasy from turning into reality.

And now she was watching him watch her, looking like she was enjoying it just as much as he was. She even made a point to moan a little while she swallowed him deep, and then Eric was moaning, because the site of her down there and the feel of her lips and her tongue felt so so so good, and he told her so while his head fell back on a groan. He felt his hand fist her hair a little tighter than he intended, and then felt nothing but tongue against him, licking from base to head, watching him from beneath her lashes. Her body was pressed against the back frame of the couch where his legs were dangling, and it gave her the ability to look down at him, and she _loved_ that, loved being able to have that power, loved watching him watch her while she sucked a sweet kiss on the sensitive skin where his head met his shaft.

And then he felt her hands under his shirt, urging him with a low, yet sweet growl to take it off. He liked it when Calleigh took control every once in awhile, found it sexy and she found it empowering and maybe it was sexy because it was empowering for her, allowed her to liberate the kinkiness she hid inside. And the view he got of her, too, strongly contributed to the sexy category.

Glancing at the arousal in her eyes, he did as she asked, started at the top and began to unbutton the buttons of his dress shirt. She pushed his fingers aside when they reached the bottom and nudged it open to reveal his chest and smirked, standing up then going the few feet around the couch to climb onto him, her body covering his. Lips met in a heated kiss, his hands immediately finding her breasts, fondling over her chest and up to her neck and down her back and in her hair, itching to grasp tease and every part of her. And then she smirked at him, breaking their lips with a naughty grin, and then she was twisting on top of him before he had a moment to process it, and without warning she was covering her mouth over his cock once more. And the back view he had only made him harder and throb with untamed arousal.

He'd always found the female body beautiful, like an art piece that was carefully sculpted with the intent to weaken men's ability to think clearly. Each curved from her breast to her back to her bottom acted as an erotic delecacy that held the most beautiful and pure and caring people inside. But Calleigh was more that that, she was exquisite, graceful, elegant, and he was going to make damn sure she knew it.

The folds of her labia peeking out from the backside between her thighs was something Eric had a weakness for, had always found sexy. Even before they were together, this was a view that had visited his dreams numerous amounts of times, forcing him awake to take care of himself. But now his mouth was on her, his arms hooked around her legs, pulling her closer, her earthy smell only making him more aroused, more restless. He kissed at her center, separating her folds with his tongue and tasting slick skin. He sucked at her, his tongue teasing her clit while he gripped her rear hard. And then they'd fallen into an identical rhythm of licking and sucking and kissing, their lips and tongues and teeth working over each other in the same pattern. And it had them both groaning and when he squeezed her bottom hard he felt more than heard her whimper his name around him.

His tongue teased and his hands squeezed while she bobbed over him in that quick, sucking rhythm she'd quickly learned was the most pleasurable. But then she started to get a little impatient- his lips, his tongue, his teeth- they weren't enough to ease that ache between her thighs that yearned for him, that needed to be filled by him, needed to feel completely whole with him. When he felt her lips fall off of him, he was more prepared for when she twisted while on top, moving so her eyes could meet his, her mouth on his, forcing him into a deep kiss, tasting each other off one another. His body was racing with arousal, his heart pumping blood in quick beats, sending it straight down to his waist. He felt like he was going to burst, felt like his body was going to implode if he wasn't inside her within the next 5 seconds.

They rolled so he was on top, his feet hanging over the arm of the couch as he laid on his back with her hovering above him. He gripped his shaft and she helped him guide to her entrance and slowly, very slowly, _too slowly,_ he pushed the tip inside of her warmth, waiting for her hips to meet his. She sunk down on him, and he groaned, his hands in her hair as he pulled her lips closer to his, her chest flush against his.

And then she was moving, moaning hard into the kiss while her hips met his in a slow waltz of thrusts. It wasn't as forceful and needy as it was when they'd entered the door, neither felt as deprived as they had originally, but they didn't seem to mind. It was a welcome change actually, gave them both a second to catch their breath and just focus on the feeling of wholeness they got while filled with one another. His hands trailed down her sides to her hips and pulled her hard against him on the next thrust, ducking his head to catch her breast, her hair cascading around them like a curtain that smelled of vanilla and sage and Calleigh.

When he bet his knees and thrusted harder, deeper, the new angle had his waist grinding against her and it felt so good, while she continued to ride him faster. The only sound in the room was their moans, his mouth on her chest, the feel of her muscles squeezing over him. He knew she was close, could see it in her eyes, could feel it in the unsteady way she thrust back, hear it in her groans while she angled his head back to his, capturing his lips in a wet kiss. And he thrust hard again and she cried out his name, grasping at his hair and pulling him up with her and twisting until his body was covering hers.

She smiled at him, watched him line himself back up, felt him slide over her until finally entering her once more. He thrusted hard, reaching his hand to cover her breast, and his eyes went black, the darkest she'd ever seen, when he watched her seductively slide her hand down and between her thighs to circle over her clit. And he cursed, couldn't help but thrust harder, deeper both hands now gripping her thighs, pulling her against him with each thrust. Her other hand moved to her breast to make up for the loss of his, and she eyed him, watched the arousal spread over his face, watched him glance down to focus on where they were coming together, watched him struggle to keep himself from ramming into her while he watched her fingers circle over her and heard a sharp gasp. It felt good, so good, and she told him, her eyes falling closed while she indulged him, one hand tugging and rolling her nipple, the other moving in quick, rapid strokes over her center. And she let out a loud moan that he mirrored, her hips meeting his while she arched her back. He felt her hips begin to twitch and he bent over, covering her chest so his lips could meet hers as he thrusted harder, faster. Her legs wound around his waist, pulling him deeper, her hands in his hair, scraping down his back while his tongue teased it's way past her lips and into the warmth of her mouth.

And then her hips twitched, she wrapped her legs around him tighter, her back arching while her muscles squeezed around him at their own accord as she cried out his name and pulled him closer, the waves of her orgasm making him push harder, faster while his lips caught her ear and his hand made it's way between their bodies, brushing over her to keep her going, keep her spiraling in an endless orgasm, while he held on as best as he could, at the horizon of release, not wanting to end it just yet. And then she felt another orgasm swamp her, drowning her in waves and leaving her boneless and breathless. He was close, had to be, could hear it in his breath, feel it in his thrusts. And then she grasped his hair, pulled their lips back together and told him she loved him, and that was it. One thrust, two, and another two until he felt himself spill into her, his hands in her hair pulling her to him, kissing her while his hips jerked against hers until he'd gone bone dry and was left to feel like he was flying high and could finally breathe.

"You went straight from Miami to Virginia?" Calleigh asked softly, her body curled against his side, their legs intertwined while she traced invisible patterns on his chest.

"Mhmm, no," he was tired, she could tell, but she also wanted to know everything that happened.

"Where'd you go then?" She murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Atlanta," he smirked, "taught a criminal justice course at a university downtown."

She sighed happily, grateful he was with her now, though hearing he was in Atlanta made her laugh a little on the inside, it most definitely was not a city Eric Delko belonged in. Still, she had to ask, "did you like Atlanta at least?"

The low grumble of his laugh that she felt made her feel a little more whole, "no," he smirked, "I hated it, honestly. Couldn't walk down the street without getting preached at. People were very extra, culture was very different too. Culture wasn't bad, just wasn't _home._ "

"A little too southern?" she teased, purposely deepening her accent.

"Stuck out like a sore thumb," he teased back, failing at his attempt to mirror her accent. He brushed his lips over her hair, "but living downtown wasn't too bad, a lot more diverse because of the civil rights movement up there. A lot of poverty downtown though, a lot of homeless people. No doubt because of gentrification and other racial problems there. But outside the city is a different story, reminds you how prominent race issues still are."

"How long were you there?" he could tell she was struggling at staying awake, and his hand luling over her spine with soothing strokes wasn't helping keep her awake.

"20 months, thought about you every second of them."

She rolled her eyes despite them being closed. He'd always been a flatterer, and she made sure he knew it.

"Hey it's true," he defended with a laugh and she couldn't help but snuggle closer to him, "I love you Calleigh, I missed you."  
"I missed you too," she whispered squeezing him closer with the arm she had around his chest, "do you have to leave early? In the morning."

"Mhh No," he murmured nuzzling his head into her hair, "Morgan wants to know who the lucky girl is, asked if she had a sister."

She smirked, offered a sleep chuckle, and then they both started nodding off, wrapped around one another like nothing had changed.


	11. Chapter 11

Eric Delko did not understand what awful thing he did in a past life to deserve such a chaotic and unfortunate situation. He figured whatever he'd done he'd paid his debt after everything that happened, figured maybe putting his life on the line for his city and his people all these years would help a little too. But nothing seemed to smooth over, and it frustrated him. Couldn't Rossi and Morgan being alerted of his situation have _at least_ not involve gunfire and an ambulance? Was that too much to ask? To have them learn about his secret identity in a peaceful manner? Whatever it was, Delko hoped _now_ his debt was paid off. At least the incident didn't occur because of his situation, that would have been a hell of a lot worse.

When he and Calleigh had left her apartment, she figured they'd go talk to Horatio once at the lab and go from there. She dropped off Eric about a block from the lab so no one would see them together and made sure to "casually bump into each other" while headed towards the front of the lab. And that had gone over pretty smoothly, they were approached by Morgan while walking to greet Horatio. They seemed to be doing a pretty good job in Eric's book. But then he glanced to the street, saw a lincoln town car lowrider start to slow down, watched their windows start to roll down, saw 3 boys pull out nines and start shooting.

Eric instinctively jumped in front of Calleigh to shield her, toppling her to the ground. He'd heard 13 shots but was so focused on making sure Calleigh was okay that he didn't immediately recognize the sharp pain that seared through his arm, all too familiar of that traumatic shooting he wished he could just forget. But he couldn't because it still scared him, still kept him up at night sometimes, still left him feeling on edge despite the time since the shooting. She could tell by looking at him, that it wasn't the pain of the shooting that drove his panic, but the memory of the shooting that almost killed him so many years before. After it happened, when he was released from the hospital, he had panic attacks, had nightmares, would wake up in searing pain and would start hyperventilating. Things that could be remotely mistaken as gunshots set him off, popping balloons or fireworks, those things triggered panic. And though he kept it under wraps it was inevitable that Calleigh would find out, considering all the time they spent together. He feared he'd be viewed as weak, as incompetent, his job was already in question, his post traumatic stress was not something people needed to know about. But PTSD isn't something that just goes away, it stays with you, affects you everyday in one way or another.

"Is everyone alright?" Rossi asked cautiously, glancing at his team.

"Eric, you're hurt," Calleigh said, maneuvering him on his back, and the fear in his eyes did nothing to ease her own anxiety of losing him. But he was shot in the arm twice, though it was better than being shot in the leg and the head.

Horatio and Rossi rushed to his side, dropping to their knees and putting pressure on his wounds while Calleigh tried to calm him down.

"Hey Eric," she soothed, one hand on the side of his face, the other grasping his good one, "it's okay, you're okay, you're okay." His pain pained her, and despite her telling him he was okay, she worried much more for his psychological well being rather than his physical one. Being shot in the arm sucks but it happens to the best of us, but the trauma it brought up for him put him back in that panicked state, the same one he'd get in after a nightmare or flashback when he couldn't differentiate the near fatal shooting from the reality of what was going on around him. He felt like he was there again, back in '07 on that rooftop level of the parking garage. In therapy they'd talked about grounding techniques and trying to use his senses to get in touch with the reality around him, but he'd never been able to do those effectively on his own. Calleigh was fully aware of them, though, knew how to help him try and get back in touch with reality. Her being there with him always helped.

"My head," he grunted, grasping her hand tighter, fear still rushing through him.

"You're heads fine," she assured, "you're okay, I'm here, H is here, your team from the BAU is here, you're okay, okay?"

He nodded and gave an affirmative grunt, then a pained gasp when Horatio urged him to sit up.

"Eric EMS is almost here, they're gonna get you cleaned up alright?"

Eric nodded, grasped Calleigh's hand tighter while she helped him sit up, Rossi keeping pressure on his wounds.

"Who's Eric?" Rossi asked softly, glancing to Calleigh then to Horatio, then back to where his team was. It seemed everyone had gone after the shooters with the exception of Spencer, who stayed behind and walked towards them.

Calleigh gave Rossi a pleading look, they couldn't discuss this here, not now. She wasn't sure if he'd get her message to just leave it alone for now, but he gave a slight nod of understanding then smiled at Eric, the sounds of sirens echoing closer, the red lights flashing against the window. Calleigh soothingly stroked her fingers through his hair, along his face, giving his hand a light squeeze of reassurance as he started to calm down.

"I'm fine," he murmured, the pain in his words from the physical effects of being shot rather than the emotional trauma it brought along with it, "sorry," he grunted, cradling his arm as he sat up straight.

Calleigh scoffed at him with disbelief, "Eric why are you sorry? You got shot," she shook her head at him, though she smiled a little, a comforting smile and reminder of why she loved him so much- he could have two bullet holes in his arm but insist that he's alright, he reminded her of her.

As the ambulance approached Rossi held his grip under Eric's armpit to help him stand, Horatio his other arm, while Calleigh held his hand and Reid trailed behind, observing.

"Come on Eric," Rossi said, his voice a little strained from Eric's weight. Calleigh glanced at him and momentarily wondered why he decided to call Eric... Eric, but then she glanced to Spencer with question and he mouthed to her, "prevent panic attack."

Calleigh nodded her understanding while she helped carry him to the EMT as they approached them.

"What happened?" he asked, pulling him to sit down on the edge of the ambulance, Rossi and Horatio letting him go while Calleigh refused to unlace their hands, refused to let him go, not when he needed her.

"He got shot," she said, "two shots."  
The EMT nodded and started to help Eric tug his shirt up over his head, "I'll do a portable x ray to see if the bullet fragmented, if it did we have to take him to surgery, but if it didn't we should be able to take care of it here."  
Calleigh shook her head just slightly, "I think he should still go in just to be safe."  
"Calleigh I'm fine," Eric assured but she frowned at him, and Eric knew the EMT would probably listen to her over him anyways. There was never any in harm in going to the hospital.

She squeezed his good hand, "Eric, I just want to make sure you're okay," she offered pleading eyes, "I worry about you."  
"Cal, I'm fine," Eric pushed while the EMT began to examine his arm.

"Eric, I mean, not just physically."  
He wanted to argue, didn't want to go to the hospital if he didn't need to, he hated hospitals, he didn't want to take up the space or deal with any of it. He didn't want to get poked and prodded if it wasn't necessary.

"Ma'am," the EMT said to Calleigh, "can you hold the gauze over the wound and put pressure while I get the portable x ray?"  
She nodded, "of course," and sat down next to him, taking the gauze and carefully holding it hard over the wound. She suddenly became aware that Horatio, Rossi, and Reid were gone. Probably inside, she figured, Horatio trying to explain everything.

She watched Eric watch her, those big brown eyes she loved so much melting her heart, butterflies flew through her, she was lost in him. Again.

"Ma'am you can move your hand now" the EMT said, juggling the x-ray in his hand. She did though her eyes never left Eric's. She held his hand while his arm was x-rayed, helped him move and twist however necessary for the image to be clear. She could see the pain while he tried to suppress a wince. He'd always had a little too much pride, not ego, but pride in making himself seem strong to her. She wished he knew she thought he was strong even if he needed to go to the hospital, even if he had a panic attack or nightmares or flashbacks. He'd insisted she stay an extra day with both fires despite her protests, and Alexx had convinced her to stay one more night, not because she needed to but because Eric needed her to. She wondered if he understood she wanted the same thing for him.

She worried because she knew that historically when he was around a shooting his PTSD started attacking him, fear and flashbacks the only thing he could feel. Some of the panic attacks were worse than others, but PTSD can move in waves after an episode, no matter how small. He may seem calm right now, but she knew his nightmares were gonna be worse tonight, knew he needed to get a prescription for Xanax filled.

"The bullets didn't fragment so I can remove them right here and pass them onto your lab."

"Shouldn't he still go to the hospital just to be safe? He got shot a while back I just," she looked to Eric and squeezed his good hand, "please?" She wasn't asking the for the EMT's permission.

He smiled at her knowing _she_ needed this, "alright, but by Alexx. And you're driving, I don't need an ambulance."

She nodded with relief and held his hand while he hid his pain during the extraction and treatment of the bullet wounds. She thought suddenly if Alexx knew that Eric was alive, and if she was told what everyone else was told. Was Eric allowed to see Alexx? Did she get special knowledge of the situation? It wouldn't make sense for her to have, considering _Calleigh_ wasn't even rewarded with that privilege.

"Eric," Calleigh murmured, giving his hand a squeeze, "Does Alexx know? About everything?"

He glanced off to the distance thinking. "No" he said, suddenly remembering, "I forgot, I just," he paused and shook his head sadly, his eyes finding the silver hummer parked a few yards away, and for some reason the fact that he couldn't see Alexx at the hospital cut far deeper than he'd like to admit, but then again it was always the little things, the things that you don't really realize immediately, the things that are just native and habit of the way things used to be, reminding you in a heartbreakingly subtle way that things just aren't the same. He'd been prepared to wake up without Calleigh, and granted he'd still reach for her and felt nothing but emptiness inside when he grasped sheets, but that was something he did everyday, something he thought about everyday, something he knew he couldn't have. Seeing Alexx in the ER was not one of those things, was not something that crossed his mind everyday, was not something he realized he couldn't have until he'd said it outloud.

"I wish everything could go back to the way things were," he looked to her, "God Calleigh I hate this, I hate hiding, I hate pretending, I hate this," he brought her hand to his lips, "I'm sorry."  
"Eric," she shook her head sadly, "This isn't your fault, you shouldn't be sorry."  
He grunted as the EMT extracted the first bullet, "sir please try and be still."

Eric offered an unsurprising apology while Calleigh spoke, "Bag that please," she said to the EMT.

He nodded, "You aren't going to need stitches, but this is going to sting a little," Eric braced himself and clenched his jaw when he felt a tiny drop of alcohol around the wound, his bicep burning.

"Eric look at me," Calleigh murmured and wouldn't speak until he did "I love you, I love you more than anything, okay? I don't care about your past or what it means or what changes it'll force us to make. I care about you and I care about us, nothing will ever change that."

The smile he gave her was one he hadn't worn in years, one he had no reason to wear, one he reserved for these kinds of moments. She loved him, love him enough to move to Quantico and leave everything and everyone in Miami behind, and he really didn't want her to do that for him, didn't want her to have to change and forget and lose everything for him, because it wasn't fair to her. And that was at the front of his mind since coming home for the case, despite everything she said, despite the ring, he still felt guilty, didn't want her to leave behind _everything_ for him. But he could tell by the seriousness in her voice, genuinity in her words, that she was certain, that she'd made up her mind.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," she promised quietly, and despite telling him that these past few days, there was something different about the way she said it. Maybe it was because he had a bullet in his arm or maybe it was because he took the bullet _for_ her, but either way he finally felt more relieved than he'd been for years.

"I have a feeling Alvez isn't Alvez?" Spencer said to Rossi as they followed Horatio to his office.

"I'd say you're right about that, kid," Rossi agreed, stepping into the office behind Horatio. He gestured for them to take a seat.

"This is confidential information," Horatio began, "it's something only homeland security and the top of the FBI have access to."  
Rossi nodded, "who's Eric?"  
"Eric Delko is his real name, he used to work here as a CSI with my team."

"What caused him to become Luke Alvez?" Spencer asked.

"He'd been under the impression that he was born in Miami right after his parents immigrated from Cuba," Horatio began, "He'd done some of his own investigating and found out that his birth certificate was fake and that he was actually born in Cuba and that his birth father was a Russian affiliated with the Russian Mob. A couple of years before this began to completely unfold he'd been shot in the head and the leg and almost died from a shootout with a separate gang that murdered his sister and my wife, Marisol."

"That explains his panic attack, poor kid has PTSD," Rossi said and Horatio nodded.

"So," Spencer glanced at Horatio, "Alvez never served in the military?"  
"No he didn't. He almost got deported because he was considered an illegal immigrant, and in certain cases Wet Foot Dry Foot doesn't apply if there's a threat to national security. His father apart of the Mob was an American Citizen and was able to prove Eric was as well. A little after this there was a Russian Mobster, Ivan Snarnoff, with three DOA's at his club, he'd attacked another one of our CSI's, Ryan Wolfe, and kidnapped his friends son, and beat Wolfe until he agreed to cover up the murders. I killed Snarnoff while Sharova, Eric's father, was ordered to kill him. Because I killed him instead of Sharova, there was an order from up top for Sharova to "pay his debt" and kidnap a separate gang members daughter. When her father, Memmo, found out he broke out of prison. For both his safety and the safety of the people closest to him, Eric Delko was declared deceased and became Luke Alvez."  
Both Spencer and Rossi nodded, digesting what they'd heard. Rossi didn't understand why at least one person on the team wasn't notified, whether it be he or Morgan, it was unsafe for them to be kept out of the loop like that. Especially with something so crucial.

"And Calleigh...?" Spencer found himself asking.

"Yes," Horatio nodded, "They have a long history. I specifically made sure she was on this case while everyone else on our team worked on a separate case in a separate county."  
It was silent for a moment, and then Rossi spoke, asking the one question that had been on Eric's mind ever since landing down in Miami for this case, "what now?"  
"We need to talk to Eric and Calleigh, I know they've been discussing that, and I also know neither of them are gonna seperate from eachother. But it still isn't safe for Eric to be in Miami, so he would need to go back to Quantico as Alvez, which means Calleigh will be heading that way as well."

"I'll go check on them," Spencer said and Horatio nodded, "bring them in when he's cleaned up, I know Calleigh probably wants to take him to the hospital but if the EMT doesn't see it as necessary then it isn't."

Spencer nodded, stood up, and turned to leave his office, leaving Horatio and Rossi alone.

"How long ago did he leave your team?" Rossi asked.

"About 2 years ago, he'd spent time in Atlanta before transferring to Quantico."

Rossi let out a deep sigh, "it's a lot of shit for him to handle, he did a good job at covering everything up."  
"Eric's the type of person that would do anything if it meant keeping the people he loves safe," Horatio said, "even if it puts his own safety or mental health at risk."

"Calleigh being the main factor behind that?"

"He's always been very protective of her, regardless of their relationship status. He almost died when he got shot and it put a lot of things into perspective for him. It put a lot of things into perspective for all of us."

"He started taking life more seriously," Rossi declared with a nod.

"We all did. We'd already lost one CSI a few years before Eric's shooting, the team couldn't handle losing another."

Rossi hated that, hated that death was always what it took to make people start to look at the world around them and think about what's next. They worked with it day in and day out, watched people's lives be ruined by the death of their loved ones. Rossi knew first hand about loss, knew what it was like to have that lonely feeling hanging over your heart and weighing down your chest making it hard to breathe. Despite being married three times and divorced three times, he'd missed his chance with his first love when he was young, only for her to end up dead without him getting the opportunity to dabble in what could have been. He related with Eric on that, except Eric had been given a second chance, an opportunity with Calleigh, and it may have taken a few years after the shooting, but eventually it happen, they happened. And then he was forced to leave, and Rossi could only imagine the heartache that must have caused for the both of them.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: I've been working on this fic for the last few months and decided to not upload it chapter by chapter because I wasn't sure how frequently I'd be able to update because of school. But now at 1:49 AM it's complete, and I PROMISE there will be a sequel that will be more like drabbles rather than a long ass fic like this one. The support I get from yall means so much to me and keeps me going when my depression gets the best of me. I'm so grateful for all of you and I appreciate you reading my stories. It means the world to me. Bare with me for the sequel, though I promise it will be there, I'm just a full time college student with particularly difficult classes this semester. I hope everyone has a happy holidays. Peace :)**

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This was inevitable, Eric knew, knew it the moment he heard he was going to Miami. It was going to come out, it was going to come back and bite him, he wasn't going to be free from his past, whether because something else comes up with his father or Memmo or The Russians, the truth would end up coming out one way or another. Either way, Eric knew this was inevitable. He'd been hoping it wouldn't involve a shootout or a knife fight or some other violent offense, but he figured having Calleigh back used up all his luck. Now here he was, his arm wrapped with Calleigh sitting beside him in the conference room, where Horatio moved everyone once Spencer came back with them, needing the space to notify the entire team of the situation.

Horatio had gone outside while waiting for everyone else to return after the shooters from the drive by had been detained, leaving Calleigh and Eric and Rossi and Spenc alone to discuss everything... And for Eric to be poked and prodded with questions. He started to think maybe going to the hospital wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.

"You don't have to stay for the remainder of the case," Rossi smiled, "after everything is sorted out you can go home, we have enough people and we can get Prentiss out here if it's necessary."

"I appreciate that," Eric said, "I take it H told you about my situation?"

Rossi nodded, "that's a hard thing to live with, but you did what you had to."

Eric nodded, "I just..." he shook his head, "I'm tired of having everything I love, everything that's precious to me taken."

"It's a hard thing to deal with," Rossi agreed, "I'm sorry."

Spencer glanced to Rossi, then Eric, "what do we call you now?"  
Eric smirked, "Considering Delko is technically dead, I'm still Alvez. But, I mean," he glanced to Calleigh and gestured to her, "she's gonna call me Eric, so."  
Calleigh smirked at him, "whatever, Alvez," she then turned to Rossi, "I have a couple of questions."  
"Shoot."  
"He's not gonna get rid of me without a fight," Calleigh said with a smirk, gesturing to Eric, "if he's going to Quantico, I'm going with him, but I have to ask-"  
Rossi cut her off, "we could really use a forensic specialist, I'll talk it over with Morgan, but we'll get it taken care of."

"I really appreciate that," Calleigh said.

All heads turned once the door opened, Morgan and JJ walking in behind Horatio, "Miami PD arrested them," Derek said glancing around the room, his eyes falling mainly on Eric and Calleigh, smirking knowingly.

"Shit Alvez," he said with a smile, "this who you been spending your nights with? The lead on the case," he laughed a little, "that's bold man."  
Calleigh blushed and Eric smirked at him, "I kind of already had an advantage, Morgan."

"Wait, whats going on?" JJ asked, tilting her head confused.

"Luke Alvez is not really Luke Alvez," Rossi said with an amused smile, Derek taking a seat next to him, JJ next to Spencer, while Horatio stood.

All eyes were on Eric now and for some reason it made him nervous, he thought all of this coming out would be a weight off his shoulder, and it was, but for some reason his heart still pounded against his chest, "my real name is Eric Delko, and I used to be a CSI here in Miami working under Lieutenant Caine. I worked as a CSI for over a decade with Horatio and Calleigh," he nodded towards her, "It's a pretty long story, but my biological father was involved in the Russian mob, there were issues with my citizenship, there was a hit ordered on me, a successful hit on my sister, and overall my safety was at risk which therefore put the safety of the team here at risk. But now," Eric shook his head, "I left Calleigh once," he said looking to her, "I'm not leaving her again."  
She ducked her head and blushed with embarrassment, the attention making her uncomfortable, and for some reason Horatio being there only made it worse. She was always very private, didn't like her personal life thrown all around for everyone to know and Eric knew that, so he kept talking, pulling the attention away from her, "I'm not from New York and I've never served in the army. If I could stay here in Miami I would, but I can't, for the safety of the people I care about here. For Horatio," he gestured to him, "and for everyone else affiliated with me. I'd already lost my sister because of this, I wasn't going to lose anyone else because of me, because I put them at risk. Eric Delko is deceased, and if Russians or Memmo were to find out otherwise I wouldn't be able to live with what they would do to the people here."

The room filled with a heavy silence but not one that was suffocating. Calleigh was thinking, trying to figure out what to do with her apartment and her things, trying to figure out how she'd resign from MDPD and explain everything to her father, _who_ would look after her father while she was in Quantico. It was a lot of stuff that hadn't crossed her mind until now, until her staying with Eric finally became _real._ She had furniture and rent she'd need to pay until her lease was up unless her landlord decided to be nice and let it slide because she was a CSI. And there was the issue of getting hired in the FBI and undergoing training even though Rossi promised to take care of it. It's not like she this would stop her from going with him, it was just a lot to do on such short notice and the thought of it was stressing her out. But she'd talk it over with Eric, they'd get it figured out. All that matters is that they're together now, for good. And there's absolutely no telling what the future holds for either of them in Quantico, but they'll be there for each other, _with_ each other, and that's what matters most.


End file.
